


Should've Known Better

by codiwill



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Angst, Bellamy Blake & Clarke Griffin are Roommates, Doctor Clarke Griffin, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Teacher Bellamy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2020-04-08 12:14:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 48,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19106890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codiwill/pseuds/codiwill
Summary: Clarke is looking for a roommate, so is Octavia's brother. How bad could it be?(or: ANOTHER Roommates AU that nobody asked for.)





	1. Chapter 1

Clarke should’ve known better. She needed a roommate and she’d never met Octavia’s brother, but he was moving into town so it seemed like the perfect idea. When she met Bellamy he was reserved and kind and seemed like he would keep to himself most of the time- the complete opposite of Octavia. So, there really wasn’t a problem with them moving in together. But Clarke should’ve known better…

Clarke was at the counter, making coffee and trying to keep her eyes from falling shut. It had been a long night shift and she had only managed to sleep a meager three hours. There were tons of errands she had to run today; otherwise she’d probably still be passed out in bed. 

“Do you ever clean up after yourself or are you expecting the maid to do it?”

Clarke turned sharply, convinced she hadn’t heard that right. Bellamy sat at the table, reading a newspaper with a steaming cup of tea. His eyebrow was raised arrogantly.

“Excuse me?” 

Bellamy lifted the mug to his mouth slowly, watching her while he did so, and her teeth ground together in agitation. Clarke wasn’t a patient person. On top of that, she was strung out and exhausted. Did he want her to yell at him?

“You keep leaving your shit everywhere and I’m tired of picking up after you,” he said.

Clarke looked over at the counter. One of her boxes of cereal was out and open. There were two plates and a knife in the sink from where she had made a sandwich last night after getting home and her phone charger was on the kitchen island. Really, it could’ve been worse. In fact, she’d been making a conscious effort to clean up after herself more since Bellamy moved in.

Clarke turned her back to Bellamy, trying to put a buffer between them before she exploded. Reaching to the top shelf, she grabbed a thermos for the rest of her coffee. Silently, she emptied the coffee pot into the thermos and downed the rest of her mug. She was going to need a lot more coffee if she was going to get through this day without murdering someone.

When she turned back around, Bellamy was staring pointedly at the empty mug she had just thrown into the sink. God, he was worse than her mother.

He wanted her to clean up after herself? _Fine_.

Without a word, Clarke loaded the mug into the empty dishwasher. None too gently, she threw the two dirty plates and knife in as well. 

Bellamy’s eyes widened as Clarke put a soap packet into the machine and slammed it shut. Making eye contact and smirking, Clarke pressed the start button. 

“Hey!” he cried, rising out of his seat, “Don’t start it when it’s empty!”

He made a move to press the stop button, but Clarke put her body in front of the dishwasher and crossed her arms. Bellamy took a step back, clearly not comfortable with physically moving her out of the way.

They stared each other down, neither budging. Moments later, there was the click of the dishwasher locking for the rest of the cycle. Too late to stop it now. 

“Sorry for leaving such a mess,” she said sweetly. “I had so many dishes they barely fit in the dishwasher.”

Bellamy opened his mouth, but couldn’t find the words and Clarke smiled triumphantly. She brushed past him, grabbing her thermos and retreating to her room to get ready for the day.

 

* * *

 

It continued on like that for weeks. Bellamy would make some snide comment about Clarke’s messiness and she would respond in the most annoying and creative way possible. Twice Bellamy had found her shoes hanging from the curtain rods after he’d asked her to get them off the floor. Sometimes she would forget her laundry in the dryer and Bellamy would toss it on her bed. Clarke would just make a show of using the warm clothes as a blanket and falling asleep under them for hours. When they got cold, she would toss them back in the dryer for thirty minutes and then pile them on the couch and fall asleep under them again. It drove Bellamy crazy and Clarke reveled in it. Maybe if he weren’t so fussy, she would make an effort to clean up like a normal person.

The final straw was the labels. Clarke had a bad habit of getting home late and eating whatever was in the fridge, including his lunch for the next day. It had resorted in Bellamy putting sticky notes on his leftovers. At three in the morning, Clarke had seen the sticky notes and slammed the refrigerator door shut angrily. She’d grabbed her computer and immediately opened Amazon. A box arrived the next day after being shipped overnight and while Bellamy was at work, Clarke spent the day using her new purchase.

She left for her shift before Bellamy got home, but wished she could stay just to see his reaction.

 

 

 

“OCTAVIA!”

Octavia pulled the phone away from her ear, trying not to get a burst eardrum.

“Bellamy? What the hell!” she yelled back.

“You are not going to believe what she did!”

Octavia rolled her eyes, setting the phone on the counter and putting it on speaker so Lincoln could hear.

“Not this again, Bell,” she said, exasperated. For the past few weeks Bellamy had called her almost every day complaining about something Clarke had done. It started off as wildly entertaining. Octavia enjoyed anyone who could get under her brother’s skin. Now, it was just getting ridiculous.

“She put labels on everything,” Bellamy said darkly.

Lincoln furrowed his brow, looking to Octavia for clarification. Octavia raised her shoulders in mutual confusion.

“Labels?”

“Yes. She bought a label maker and labeled everything in the goddam apartment.”

“Why would she do that?”

Bellamy sighed, “She got mad because I was putting sticky notes on my food. And on the light switch.” 

“What did she label?” 

“ _Everything_.”

God, her brother could be so dramatic sometimes.

“Everything, Bellamy? Seriously?”

“Yes, everything!” he cried and Octavia couldn’t help but chuckle. When was the last time he had been so frazzled?

“Alright, hold on. Lincoln and I are on our way over.” 

“Fine,” Bellamy said, ending the call.

 

 

“This isn’t funny, Octavia!” Bellamy shouted, but his sister was bent over in the middle of the room in a fit of giggles. Lincoln was trying very hard to remain serious. He and Bellamy were just starting to get along and laughing right now really didn’t seem like a smart idea.

“Ugh!” Bellamy threw his hands up in the air, stomping over to start removing the labels.

“No!” Octavia said, trying to wipe her tears, “Leave them! _Please._ ”

“No,” Bellamy snapped, ripping away the label on the remote. _Channel 34: History Network ONLY. Do not touch Volume Up button or else._

And that wasn’t even one of the best ones.

The coffee table said: _No shoes, food, cups, forks, knifes, spoons, napkins, phones, clothes, or personal items allowed. History term papers only._

All of his food containers said: _Bellamy ‘Stick Up His Butt’ Blake’s Food. DO NOT TOUCH_!

The produce drawer in the fridge said: _The stuff Bellamy doesn’t think Clarke eats enough of because he likes to pretend he’s her mother._

The freezer: _Clarke’s unhealthy microwave meals and ‘diabetes in a tub’ treats only._

The curtains: _Only to be shut when a new history documentary is on TV._

The lamp: _Do not leave on past 9:00 PM to help protect resident’s sensitive eyes._

The thermostat: _Don’t even think about touching this. Can turn up one degree, and one only, if it snows._

The toaster: _Above level 4 and your toast will be ‘inedible’._

The deadbolt: _Dammit Clarke, did you forget to lock the door again?_

The side of the sofa Bellamy always sat on: _Don’t even think about it._

The sink: _Hot water turned off to appease cheapskate resident._

The washing machine: _Mixing colors and whites will result in a lecture._

The dryer: _Another lecture is in store if you don’t empty the lint catcher._

The towels: _Hang up. Don’t fold until dry._

Then she had gone around and labeled his toothbrush, toothpaste, all his toiletries, his kitchen utensils and mugs, and everything else she could find with a large **_BELLAMY AUGUSTAS BLAKE_. **That wasn’t his middle name of course, but Clarke knew how much he loved ancient history. Augustus was the first emperor of the Roman Empire and Bellamy had mentioned him more than once. Okay, a hundred times. Clarke had spelled Augustus’ name wrong on purpose, he was sure of it, and honestly it was the thing that bothered him most. 

All of her stuff simply had a label with _CG_ written on it.

Clarke hadn’t dared label anything in his room, but his door said: _Blake Cave. Nerdy books and easy lays only beyond this point._

Needless to say, Bellamy was fuming and Octavia was laughing hysterically.

“I love her. I seriously think I love her,” Octavia was admiring the labels Clarke had put on each of his books. There had to be at least a hundred of them.

“She’s rude and inconsiderate.”

Lincoln and Octavia shared a look over Bellamy’s shoulder. 

“Then move out.”

Bellamy grunted and continued to throw a fit, but maybe Octavia was right. Maybe it was time he found somewhere else to live. But leaving would mean Clarke would win this war they had started and it just wasn’t in Bellamy’s nature to lose.


	2. Chapter 2

Bellamy decided that the best way to get back at Clarke for the labels was to not react at all. She had done it just to piss him off, but what was she going to do if he didn’t say anything about it at all?

That night when Clarke got home, Bellamy was reading his book on the couch. She paused when she saw him, taking in his glasses and rumpled hair then quickly adverting her eyes. He really did look like a professor with those glasses on the bridge of his nose and his face in a book.

“Hey, how was your shift?”

Clarke glanced around the room, noting that the labels were still where she’d put them. 

“Good,” she drawled. “How was your night?”

Bellamy shrugged, returning to the page. “Fine.”

For a moment she studied him and Bellamy pretended not to notice. Clarke huffed and shifted to put her stuff down. This was not the reaction she had expected.

She milled about the kitchen for a while, making a cup of tea and popcorn, before eventually saying goodnight. Bellamy smiled a little as her door shut.

Take that.

 

 

Clarke was agitated. She’d half expected Bellamy to yell at her the moment she walked in the door or maybe put labels on all her stuff or something. But nothing? She’d spent hours on those fucking things for nothing? It was… frustrating.

Raven and Murphy came over the next day and had a great time reading all of them and suggesting new ones. But Bellamy just sat at the kitchen table writing on his computer, completely ignoring them. 

One night, Bellamy brought a girl home. They stumbled into the apartment, barely noticing Clarke on the couch and making their way towards Bellamy’s room. When the girl saw the label on his door she giggled, _actually giggled,_ and then made some comment about Bellamy finding out just how easy she really was. Clarke didn’t even try to hide her gag.

 

 

 

Bellamy was wandering around the store when he saw it and stopped. He’d been waiting for the right time to retaliate for the labels and now it was staring him in the face. Sure, seeing Clarke frustrated when he ignored them was funny but it was nowhere near satisfying enough.

He stayed up late that night, laying in his bed and waiting for Clarke to get home. When he heard the door open, he held his breath. There was a muffled noise and a few hard footsteps he didn’t recognize. It didn’t sound like Clarke was alone. Bellamy grinned- even better. 

He listened to Clarke and whomever she was with stumble their way to her bedroom and shut the door behind them.

It took nearly ten minutes, but boy was it worth it. 

“BELLAMY!” 

He sniggered, but quickly suppressed it when he heard Clarke stomping across the living room. The door was flung open so hard it rebounded off the wall.

“Something I can do for you at this late hour, princess?”

Clarke looked like a mad woman in front of him. Her hair was all over the place, the only thing she was wearing was a bra and her scrub pants, and her chest was heaving.

She took another step forward and Bellamy raised a brow. Her mouth opened like she was about to scream, but after a moment she popped it shut and her face grew still.

“I’m going to kill you,” she said in an utterly calm voice, “I am going to hang you by your toes on our balcony and let the birds eat you.” 

“Oh, don’t be dramatic, princess. I was being nice!”

Her eyes narrowed. “And you’re about to find out how _nice_ I can be.” 

“Clarke?”

Bellamy and Clarke both swung their heads towards the voice and Bellamy had to blink a few times, not sure what he had heard. Clarke had brought home a girl?

“I’ll be right there, Lexa,” Clarke snapped, but the girl just stepped forward into the doorway of his room. She eyed Bellamy, sprawled out on the bed, and then Clarke who was still standing in the middle of the room half dressed. Oh god, they must look crazy.

“I think I’m just going to go.” 

Clarke’s face dropped. “No, you don’t have to. I’ll come back, I just-”

Lexa shook her head, “No, its fine. I don’t think this is a good idea anymore.” 

The brunette turned on her heel, retreating to retrieve her clothes and then leaving without another word. 

After she was gone, Bellamy spoke. “Clarke, I’m so-”

“Don’t.”

As if just now realizing she was shirtless, Clarke crossed her arms around her middle. 

“Where did you put my sheets?”

Bellamy gulped at the steel in her voice. He hadn’t intended for this to happen. 

“In the dryer.”

Clarke left, closing the door behind her much softer than she had opened it.

“Fuck,” Bellamy cursed under his breath and threw his head back into the pillow.  

 

 

He didn’t know what he was going to wake up to the next morning, but he didn’t expect it to be Clarke asleep on the couch. 

“You slept out here?”

Her bloodshot eyes turned to him from where she had been looking. The TV was on, just put on mute.

“I didn’t sleep.”

“Why not?” 

The living room floor had a few empty pillowcases on it, Clarke’s bed sheets were thrown haphazardly over her legs, and her comforter was strewn over the coffee table. 

“I was too mad,” she held his gaze for a moment then slowly slid her eyes back to the TV. 

“Look, Clarke I didn’t mean for that to happen. I thought it would be funny. I didn’t know you were going to bring someone home.”

“I said I was.”

“Huh?”

Clarke reached for the remote and turned off the TV. She stood up, gathering her blankets. They pilled so high in her arms that she had to tilt her head to see him.

“I said I _was_ mad, Bellamy. I’m not anymore. It was pretty funny.”

Bellamy blew out a breath, “Fuck, I’m glad you said that. I thought you were going to try and murder me in my sleep, Clarke. I had a dream you smothered me with a pillow!” 

He expected a laugh, but got nothing. 

Clarke made her way around him, some of the sheet dragging on the floor and when she got to her bedroom door, she turned. 

“I said I wasn’t mad, Blake. Doesn’t mean I didn’t spend all night thinking about how I was going to destroy you.”

Bellamy’s relief instantly turned to fear. Oh, god. What had he done? 

Clarke chose not to take off the new bedspread Bellamy had bought for her. It was sickly pick and covered in Disney Princess characters. Her new pillows had the word “Princess” all over them and he’d even put a pink silk canopy over her bed. On top of the dresser was a plastic tiara with purple fur and huge fake gems and there was a sign on her door that said “A Princess Sleeps Here” in big cursive font.

Every time Clarke walked towards her room she would stop and stare at the sign for a few seconds before going in. Bellamy watched her do it on multiple occasions from his seat in the living room. It was horrifying. It was as if somehow looking at it fueled Clarke’s determination to get back at him and do it in the most devious way possible. 

God, he was fucked. 


	3. Chapter 3

Everyone went to the Ark that weekend. It was a dive of a bar, but Murphy worked there and it had become a popular spot for their friend group to drink and have a good time.

Clarke was playing darts with Miller, Raven and Octavia were dancing, and Monty and Jasper were in a booth mixing drinks and getting wasted.

Around eleven, Bellamy walked in. He had changed from his school clothes- a button down and slacks- into jeans and a dark shirt. His curls were all over the place and wet like he’d just showered. 

“You win,” Clarke said, throwing her last dart. The game wasn’t over and Miller started to protest, but he stopped when he saw where Clarke’s attention had gone. Bellamy made a beeline for the bar and was already talking to the leggy new bartender, Echo. 

A wicked look passed over Clarke’s face and Miller gulped. Oh, his friend was in for it.

It had been a few days since the bed sheet incident and everyone had been watching Clarke like a hawk, waiting for her next move.

There were even bets on what she was going to do and when. Raven was convinced Clarke was going to move all of his furniture to the balcony and make him sleep out there. Octavia, Jasper, and Monty had it on good authority that she was plotting something with one of her doctor friends. Miller didn’t know what she was going to do, but he knew it wasn’t going to be pretty.

Miller and Clarke had known each other since they were kids. In elementary school, someone was bullying Wells and when Clarke heard about it she walked right up to the bully and told him to stop taunting her best friend. The boy laughed and Clarke immediately kicked him straight in the stomach, and then dunked his head in the bowl of paint nearby. No fanfair, no plotting- just Clarke standing up for someone she loved.

Bellamy was wary to say the least. He checked around doors, peeked into rooms before he entered, and whenever Clarke wasn’t home he made sure all his stuff was right where he’d left it.

No one expected Clarke to go straight for the kill.

It was as if everyone knew something was about to happen when Clarke sauntered towards the bar, tousling her hair a little as she went. Octavia and Raven stopped dancing, Monty and Jasper were poking elbows at each other and pointing, and Murphy was behind the bar cleaning some glasses as he watched Clarke out of the corner of his eye.

She scooted into the space next to Bellamy, running her hand along his back gently as she did. His shoulders stiffened.

“Hey, babe." Clarke tilted onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

Bellamy jerked back. “Clarke?”

Behind the bar, Echo’s hand on the beer bottle tightened and her eyes narrowed as she watched the exchange. 

“I thought you were going to be here earlier,” Clarke said, sticking out her bottom lip.

“Clarke, what the fuck-”

“This morning, at breakfast, you said you were going to be done with all your work around ten. I missed you. I had to play pool with Jasper and you know how bad he gets when he’s drunk!”

“I think you’ve had a little bit too much to drink, Princess.”

“Only two beers, but I didn’t eat much today. I couldn’t stop thinking about last night.”

“Last night?” Bellamy raised a brow. They had spent the whole night watching Netflix on the couch, using Clarke’s old sheets as blankets because she refused to fold them and put them in her closet. She’d fallen asleep before getting through the second episode and he’d only made it to the third. 

“Yeah. You and me… all night under my sheets.”

Bellamy’s eyes darkened. Clarke wasn’t drunk, she was doing this on purpose!

Echo was glaring at Clarke, her nostrils flaring. Undeterred, Clarke leaned forward and ran her hand up and down Bellamy’s bicep. God, he was muscular.

“It’s been such a long day and I just want to go home, Bell. I want you to take me home,” she whispered into his ear, making sure to trail her hot breath on his neck a little. Bellamy gasped and took two full steps back.

Having had enough, Echo scoffed and turned on her heel to talk to other customers.

“Wait, Echo!” Bellamy called, but she just shook her head in disgust.

Dark, angry eyes met Clarke’s wide blue ones.

“What the fuck was that, Clarke?” he snapped.

She batted her lashes innocently and took a sip of his untouched beer.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Fuming, Bellamy strode forward into her personal space. Clarke raised her chin and watched the muscle in his jaw twitch as he loomed over her.

“I know what you’re doing, Clarke. You can’t scare off every girl I talk to just because you’re mad at me. You didn’t get laid and now you’re making sure I don’t either. That’s your plan, right?”

Slowly, Clarke tilted her head to the side and raked her eyes over him. It made him gulp. He didn’t know how to react to Clarke being so… _seductive._ It was a ruse, a way to get back at him for the princess bedspread. That didn’t make him any less flustered.

Clarke lifted a hand, brushing a curl out of his eye, and Bellamy stiffened as she stepped impossibly close.

Her voice was a whisper against his lips. “Have a good night, Bell.”

Then, she stepped back, her gaze locked on his mouth as she licked her own lips. Bellamy felt like he was a statue- unable to move as his body flushed with heat.

With a final raised eyebrow, Clarke took his beer and walked off.

When he glanced around, all the girls in the bar had turned their backs or were pointedly avoiding eye contact. Clarke had marked him as hers. 

Bellamy met Miller’s eyes. 

‘What the fuck was that?’ Bellamy’s face seemed to say. Miller was just shaking his head in awe and a little bit of shock. Clarke was diabolical.

Raven and Octavia stood on the dance floor with their jaws dropped, ignoring how the other dancers were jostling them. Raven raised a hand as Clarke passed. Bottle to her lips, Clarke gave Raven a solid high five and continued on her way to the booth where Jasper and Monty were seated.

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” Jasper muttered.

Clarke just smiled, pleased with herself.

 

 

* * *

 

Monday, Bellamy went to work grumpy as hell. First, he’d been late because Clarke had been taking her time in the shower. Only after he pounded on the door did she finally get out. But that wasn’t event the worst part. No, the worst part was that after Clarke left the bathroom, so did another girl. Niylah, Clarke had said her name was. Bellamy just slammed the door behind him, growing more frustrated by the minute. Clarke had spent her weekend scaring off girls that even dared look at him and here she was getting laid at six in the morning! 

Then, traffic had been so bad he decided to take public transportation, but the Metro was running late too. He’d missed a staff meeting and when he got to his classroom, he noticed that some of the kids had written all over the tables in permanent marker. The day couldn’t get much worse. 

Bellamy rarely drank on weekdays, but today was just one of those days. He spread out on the couch, turned on a mindless action movie, ordered pizza and bought a six-pack.

Around ten, his phone started ringing. Bellamy furrowed his brows. The only people who called him this late were his sister and maybe Raven if she was trying to bother him about something. Usually, he wouldn’t answer a call from a number he didn’t recognize, but it did have a local DC area code. 

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Bellamy Blake?”

“Yes, who is this?”

“This is Luna, from Washington General Hospital. I’m calling in regards to John Murphy.”

“Murphy?”

“Yes, Mr. Murphy has you listed as his emergency contact.”

“What happened?”

Bellamy sat up, muting the TV and trying to ignore the way his palms had just started sweating.

“He was in a car accident earlier this evening. At this moment, he is not conscious and it took us a while to find any form of identification, otherwise we could’ve contacted you sooner. I think it would be best if you came down here right away.” 

Bellamy was already throwing on a pair of sweatpants.

“I’m on my way.”

He disconnected and ran out the door- not even bothering to lock it behind him or turn off the TV. Murphy was in the hospital. Murphy had been in a car accident. Murphy had Bellamy listed as his emergency contact?

Turns out the day could get worse.


	4. Chapter 4

Bellamy called Miller on his way to the hospital. Then he called Octavia. So, it was no surprise that everyone was in the hospital waiting room within the hour.

The doctors said that Murphy had been hit by a drunk driver and was badly hurt. He had not regained consciousness since the ambulance had picked him up and the other driver was in surgery as well. 

“Does he have any family?” Octavia asked.

“No,” Bellamy said at the same time Miller shook his head.

Bellamy had met Murphy in college, when they were paired up as random roommates. Murphy was a grumpy asshole most of the time and he and Bellamy rarely talked the first year. It took another year for Bellamy to realize that Murphy never had anywhere to go for holidays and invited him home with him. 

Miller and Bellamy became instant friends when they both sat in the back of a modern literature class and brooded over the ridiculous amount of homework. Bellamy aced the class, of course, and Miller passed- barely- thanks to Bellamy’s help. 

Bellamy, Murphy, and Miller had been practically inseparable the last two years of college. After graduating, they had moved in together and the rest was history.

When Miller moved to DC after getting a job as a police officer, it only made sense that Bellamy and Murphy move too. DC schools were always looking for teachers and Murphy could bartend anywhere. Plus, Octavia lived in DC and Bellamy loved his sister almost more than anything.

And with Octavia came Clarke, Raven, Jasper, Monty, Harper, and Lincoln. It just so happened that Miller and Clarke had grown up together, which was a surprise to everyone when Clarke mentioned Miller’s ridiculous haircut in middle school. 

 

> _“Wait,” Raven glanced between them, “You two know each other?”_

> _Clarke and Miller shared an amused look._

> _“Our parents were close when we were kids,” Clarke shrugged._

> _Bellamy was slightly bothered that Miller hadn’t said anything about it before, but decided to let it go. Even though he went home every year for Christmas, Miller rarely talked about his family and Bellamy had never met them. As far as he could tell, it was a sensitive subject._

So months later here they all were, in a hospital, praying their friend was okay.

“Has anyone gotten a hold of Clarke yet?” Monty asked.

“I know she’s working tonight, but she doesn’t keep her phone on her in surgery,” Raven said.

“Maybe she’s in there, with him,” Lincoln suggested, wrapping an arm around Octavia. It was a comforting thought, that Clarke might be one of Murphy’s doctors.

Bellamy blew out a breath and dropped his head into his hands. He hated hospitals and he hated waiting for news. The last time he had been in a hospital was after he’d found his mother unconscious on the bathroom floor. The doctors hadn’t had good news for him then either. 

Twenty minutes later, there was a banging noise as someone flew through the doors that lead to the operating rooms. Bellamy raised his head at the sound, eyes instantly meeting Clarke’s.

She held his distraught gaze for a moment and Bellamy could see her own worry, hidden behind a calm façade.

It wasn’t unusual to see Clarke in scrubs, but he’d never seen her look like this before. She still had her scrub cap on, which was colored in blues and greens and was some sort of abstract forest scene. Bellamy absently wondered if she had painted it herself. A surgical gown was falling off her shoulders and she still had shoe covers on. It looked like she had just left the operating room. 

Bellamy’s face must have said it all, because Clarke didn’t even approach her friends; instead she made her way to the nurses’ desk.

“Patient John Murphy. I need to see his file.”

The nurse that had called Bellamy looked up at Clarke, startled.

“Clarke, you know I can’t. You’re not his doctor.”

“Unless you want to be on Wallace’s service for the next three months, you can.”

Luna sputtered for a moment, but Clarke only raised an eyebrow. With a frown, the nurse handed the file over.

Clarke flipped through it quickly, her eyes scanning each page. Bellamy studied her face carefully, looking for any tell as to what Clarke was thinking.

She was about to flip to the next sheet, when her hand froze and her eyes zeroed in on something at the bottom of the page.

“Which O.R. is he in?”

“I can’t tell you that, Clarke. I’m already going to be in so much trouble for giving you the file!”

With a loud bang, Clarke slammed the file down on the counter, making everyone jump- even people in the waiting room that weren’t observing the conversation.

“It’s Doctor Griffin and I asked you which O.R. the patient is currently in,” there was a menacing tone to her voice and Luna sighed. 

“O.R. 4.”

In a second, Clarke was running through the door she had come, surgical gown flowing behind her like a cape.

“What was that all about?” Octavia asked, eyes wide.

“She saw something in his file,” Jasper said. 

“He’ll be fine, guys. It’s Murphy we’re talking about,” Raven tried to assure them, but it sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

Harper was crying softly and Monty pulled her into his shoulder.

Bellamy tried to assure himself that Raven was right- Murphy was a cockroach and he could survive anything- but watching Clarke run off like that only made him fear the worst.

“Clarke will make sure he’s alright,” Miller whispered, putting a comforting hand on the other man's shoulder.

“He’s right,” Raven said, “Clarke’s like a surgical prodigy. She was top of her class at Georgetown.” 

Bellamy nodded, tears clouding his vision.

“She’ll take care of him,” Bellamy whispered more to himself than anyone else as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, “Clarke will take care of Murphy.” 

 

Thankfully, they didn’t have to wait long. 

A large man, still in his surgical scrubs as well, with long hair that was tied back and tattoos covering his neck and arms, strode through the door. If you saw him on the street you might think he was part of a motorcycle gang, not a surgeon.

Clarke was only three paces behind the burly doctor, and Bellamy stood as they approached.

“Mr. Murphy’s family?” the doctor asked, glancing around at each of them curiously. 

Bellamy nodded.

“Mr. Murphy is going to be fine. He suffered some major bleeding and he has a broken collarbone, a few broken ribs and a head contusion we are still worried about. We were able to remove a large hematoma from his brain, but he will need to stay here for a few days under observation.”

“So, the surgery, it went okay?” Bellamy asked, needing to hear it again just to be sure.

The doctor glanced at Clarke with a grimace. “Yes, thanks to Dr. Griffin here, we were able to stop the anesthesia in time and readjust the dosages to ensure that your friend would be fine.” 

“What do you mean adjust the dosages?” Raven asked, coming to stand at Bellamy’s shoulder.

“Your friend is on some medications that react negatively to the anesthesia and affect blood flow. We did not know, but it was an emergency surgery and we were unable to get a hold of any of his friends or family that may have known his medical history. Dr. Griffin informed us of his antidepressant medications and we were able to adjust the anesthesia before he lost too much blood.”

Bellamy glanced at Clarke, but she was busy glaring at the other doctor. How had she known what prescriptions Murphy took? He hadn’t even known about the antidepressants.

“The nurse will let you know when Mr. Murphy is awake and available for visitors.” The doctor grabbed Clarke’s upper arm, “Dr. Griffin, a word.” 

She yelped, but he didn’t ease up as he hauled her over to the nurses’ desk.

The man didn’t even attempt to lower his voice.

“Listen to me, Griffin. I don’t give a fuck who your mother is. If you _ever_ barge into my OR like that again I will have your license! I will make sure you never practice medicine again! Do you understand?”

Clarke yanked her arm out of his grip. “Listen, Roan, I know you think you’re hot shit around here, but I’m the reason that patient is alive and you know it. Get your ego in check before it costs someone their life.”

They glared at each other for a solid minute. 

“Watch yourself, Griffin,” Roan warned darkly.

Clarke crossed her arms, but didn’t say anything more. Roan was her superior and if she continued disrespecting him, he could have her fired.

Roan stomped off and Clarke huffed, glancing back to where her friends were still waiting. Of course they had seen the whole thing.

She approached them slowly. 

“He’s going to be alright, but I’m not sure they will allow any visitors until morning.”

Without warning, Bellamy grabbed Clarke, wrapping her up in a hug. She stiffened at first, caught off guard. But it didn’t take long for her to melt into the embrace and wrap her arms around him too. 

“Thank you,” he breathed into her hair. Clarke smiled against his shoulder.

When Bellamy pulled back, Miller and Raven were next to give her a hug. They all took turns.

“I need to go home,” Clarke finally said. “I’ve been in surgery all day and need at least a few hours of sleep and a shower before my next shift.” She turned to Bellamy, as if reading his mind, “One of my friends is going to keep an eye on Murphy all night, so you don’t have to worry, he’ll be in good hands.”

“Are you sure?” Bellamy asked. 

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Jackson is a great doctor and Murphy is in a hospital. If anything happens, they’ll take care of him.”

It wasn’t until Clarke raised her hand and set it on Bellamy’s arm reassuringly, that he agreed to go home for the night.


	5. Chapter 5

The Ark was always slow on Monday nights, so when Clarke walked in she didn’t really expect anyone to be there. And she definitely didn’t expect to see her roommate behind the bar.

“Bellamy?”

His mop of curls popped up from where he had been looking down.

“Clarke, what are you doing here?”

“I came for a drink. Why are you behind the bar?”

Bellamy wrung a rag between his hands. “I’ve been picking up a few shifts a week for some extra money.” 

So when Bellamy said he was going “out” this is where he had been going. Clarke had just assumed he had a girlfriend or was going on dates.

She took a seat in one of the bar stools.

“So, uh,” Bellamy tossed the rag, “What can I get you?”

“I’ll take a Flanders Red Ale.”

“Uh, we don’t carry that fancy shit, Clarke.” 

Clarke smirked, setting her bag on the bar.

“There’s a case in the back.”

Bellamy raised his eyebrows. How in the world had she known that? Not about to argue, Bellamy went to the back to search while Clarke messed around on her phone.

It was actually Murphy who brought her the beer.

“Goddammit, Clarke. How long are you going to keep bothering me?” 

Eyes still on her phone, Clarke said, “Until you grow up decide to take care of yourself.”

The kitchen door swung open as Bellamy reentered. When Murphy had seen him grabbing the bottle out of the back, he’d snatched it from him, mumbling something about Clarke trying to be his mom.

One arm still in a sling, Murphy struggled to get the cap off, but with a grunt he got it and placed the bottle in front of Clarke with a loud tap. 

“Thanks,” Clarke took a large swing. “Now, come on. You know the drill, Murphy.”

Bellamy watched in bewilderment as Murphy made his way around the bar and took a seat next to Clarke, huffing and cursing under his breath the whole way.

Clarke reached inside her bag, pulling out a bundle of medical supplies. 

“How’s the pain?”

“Fine.”

Clarke flicked Murphy on the temple and he yelped. “Hey!”

“If you keep lying to me I will call an ambulance right now to take you to the hospital and you’ll have to pay the two thousand dollar bill.”

Murphy glared at her, but Clarke raised an eyebrow. Dare me, it said.

“I get headaches.”

“What else?”

“Sometimes it hurts to breathe.” 

Clarke nodded, leaning forward to run her hand along Murphy’s shoulder and ribcage.

“That’s common with rib injuries. You need to be careful not to move too much or do any heavy lifting. Collarbones can heal wrong if you jostle them enough and then it’ll hurt for the rest of you life.”

She took his chin in her hand, searching his eyes.

“Have been taking your medication?”

Murphy nodded begrudgingly.

“Drinking?”

“Not as much.”

Clarke squeezed a little on his chin and Murphy clenched his jaw. 

“I’ll stop,” he muttered. 

She smiled, not even having to tell him about the dangerous consequences of mixing prescriptions and alcohol. Hell, she’d already scolded him about it for a whole week.

“Alright, let me just change some of your bandages and you’ll be good to go.”

Murphy glanced around the bar. It was pretty much empty except for them and two men having burgers and beer in the corner booth. He pulled his shirt over his head and Clarke had to help him around the sling. When it was off, she inspected his chest, pressing a little at the tender bruises. 

Clarke worked on his bandages in silence, taking sips of beer here and there. Bellamy vaguely wondered if Murphy had ordered that case just for her.

“All done.”

She helped with his shirt and Murphy almost jumped out of the seat when it was fully on. He didn’t say thanks, but Clarke hadn’t expected him to.

Instead, Murphy grumbled under his breath, “I don’t work Wednesday or Thursday.”

“Just come by the apartment sometime then.”

Murphy nodded, shooting Bellamy a dark look as he retreated to the back room. This wasn’t something he wanted everyone to know about, but Bellamy wasn’t going to say a word. 

“I’ll see you at home?” Clarke asked, finishing her drink and leaving cash on the bar.

“Yeah, see ya,” Bellamy said absently. His mind was more focused on what he had just seen.

That whole interaction had been so weird. Murphy actually agreed to stop drinking with a single look from Clarke? Clarke had been coming to the bar to make sure he was all right? Since when had Bellamy’s most abrasive friend and the Princess become so… friendly?

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was five months into their living arrangement that The Incident occurred. At least, that’s what all their friends referred to it as.

Octavia’s twenty-third birthday was supposed to be a fun affair. Bellamy had begrudgingly agreed to host the surprise party at their apartment on the condition that he didn’t have to do anything but show up and drink. He wasn’t one for parties, but he did love his sister and she deserved to have a good night. Clarke had decided to plan the whole thing without his help.

Except, leading up to the party, Clarke about drove Bellamy out of his mind. Everyday, when he got home from work, there would be a new mess to clean up. Dishes here, trash not taken out, clothes everywhere, food sitting on the table. It was a damn shit show and Bellamy wanted to ring her neck. 

He was actually relieved the day of the party, because at least afterwards Clarke would go back to being sort of messy instead of a damn nuclear bomb of disorder. 

 

The drinks were flowing, the pizza had just arrived, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Bellamy had invited Murphy and Miller. Clarke had taken care of inviting everyone else. Raven, Monty, Harper, Jasper, Monroe, Lincoln and a few other mutual acquaintances were there. Octavia was a social person and Clarke had contacted many of her friends from the kickboxing gym, but only a few showed up.

They played beer pong and flip cup. They danced and laughed at it was all around a good time, until Octavia started opening presents.

Octavia squealed when she opened Clarke’s gift and Bellamy leaned over to see what it was. 

“Oh my god, Clarke! I can’t believe it! You didn’t have to do all this.”

Clarke smiled from across the kitchen. “I had a patient who-” 

“What the hell, Clarke?” Bellamy snapped, grabbing the first class airline tickets from Octavia’s grip. No, not just airline tickets. It was an all-inclusive vacation to Bali for two. In comparison, his picture frame and new boxing gloves were pathetic.

“Where the fuck did you get the money for this?”

Clarke blinked, setting her drink down. “I had a patient who-”

“Yeah, that’s bullshit and we both know it.”

She snapped her jaw shut, caught in the lie.

“You have the money for this?” he waved the papers in her face cruelly. “What the fuck are you doing living in this shitty apartment if you have _this_ kind of money?”

Clarke’s face darkened, anger quickly clouding her features.

“That’s none of you business.”

“What do you mean it’s none of my business? You’re rich and you just decided it would be fun to slum it for a little while? Did you want to see how the other half lived? Is this just a fucking mission trip for you?”

He knew he was being mean, but Bellamy had been pissed off at her all week and the words spewed out of his mouth uncontrollably. 

“You don’t know anything about me,” Clarke growled.

Fighting was common between Clarke and Bellamy, but everyone in the room seemed to sense that something bigger was building and it didn’t help that they had both been drinking all night. 

“Bell,” Octavia warned. “Stop it.”

“Why?” he turned on his sister, “Did you know she had money? Did you know that she’s just using you as a fucking social experiment?”

Octavia looked genuinely offended. “You need to cool the fuck down. Now, Bellamy.” 

But he didn’t want to. This apartment was trash. Clarke ate the cheapest food on the planet- ramen and poptarts- and come to find out she was actually rich? It made him angry. If he had that money, there’s no way he would be wasting it. He would pay for Octavia to go to college and maybe for his Master’s Degree. He would make sure the people he loved never had to want for anything. What the fuck was Clarke doing with it? Buying thousand dollar vacations as birthday presents? 

How had he not put the pieces together before now? Clarke didn’t clean up after herself, she didn’t know how to cook, and she drove a brand new Mustang convertible. 

“If it’s that big of a deal, I’ll just see if I can cancel the reservation,” Clarke suggested, embarrassment making her face flush.

“No,” Octavia growled, “My brother is just being an ass. Bellamy, I think you should go outside for a minute. Get some fresh air.”

He scoffed. Clarke's mouth was in a hard line and it somehow made him angrier. She wasn't even trying to defend herself! 

“Are you mad because you think I’m rich or mad because you’re not?” Clarke snapped and Bellamy drew in a sharp breath. 

The tension in the room doubled. 

“I’m mad that you’re a spoiled little princess pretending to be something you’re not. You’re a fucking liar.”

“I’m not pretending.” 

“No?” he raised an eyebrow. “Then explain your car. Its gotta be worth, what, $50,000?”

“My dad gave it to me.”

Bellamy barked, a cold harsh laugh. “Let me guess. Daddy bought you the Mustang instead of a Mercedes so you decided to run away? Teach him a lesson for being so inconsiderate?”

“Bellamy, stop it,” Raven gasped, but it was too late.

Something terrible bloomed in Clarke’s eyes and her arm shot out to the counter impossibly fast. Bellamy narrowly dodged the full bottle of red wine that came hurtling his way and it smashed into the wall next to him with a huge crash, sending the dark liquid and glass splattering everywhere. 

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Bellamy cried. “Are you crazy?”

But Clarke wasn't done. “Shut the fuck up! Just shut up!” she shouted, raving mad. “Go fuck yourself, Bellamy!”

In an instant, Raven was behind Clarke, holding her back. Octavia moved to press a hand on Bellamy’s chest to keep him from doing something rash.

“Fuck you too, Clarke! You’re so full of shit!”

Their friends jumped into action, putting themselves between Bellamy and Clarke as the pair continued shouting hurtful nonsense at each other. Clarke reached for something else, intending to throw it, but Raven yanked it out of her hand before she got the chance. Miller put himself squarely in front of Bellamy, holding him back even as Bellamy shouted and pushed his body forward. Eventually, Jasper and Monty managed to drag Clarke out of the kitchen and into her room. Bellamy pushed Octavia, Murphy, and Miller off of him and stormed into his own bedroom, slamming the door.

So much for a fun party.


	6. Chapter 6

Bellamy groaned, rolling over in search of a cold spot for his pounding head. The headache only got worse as his memories from last night came rushing in. Shit. He and Clarke had gotten into a fight. A big one. He had said terrible things and she had thrown an entire bottle of wine at him. What a fucking disaster.

He hunched out of bed, unable to go back to sleep as the events played on loop in his mind.

The clock said it was nearly six in the morning. Bellamy wandered into the kitchen in search of coffee and almost tripped over something on the ground. He blinked, unsure if he was dreaming.

Clarke was on her hands and knees in the kitchen, wiping at the stained floor with a bucket of soap. Bellamy took a step back, expecting her to look up and say something snide, but Clarke just continued scrubbing with her head to the ground.

“Uhh,” Bellamy said awkwardly and she shifted so he could pass.

The coffee pot gurgled just as Clarke rose and emptied the bucket into the sink, not even meeting his eye.

Stepping lightly, Clarke exited the kitchen and emerged moments later wearing scrubs. She didn’t even stop for coffee on her way out the door. That was a bad sign. Without coffee, Clarke could barely function in the morning.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Bellamy slumped forward and blew out a breath. This whole situation was super fucked up. Why didn’t he just apologize when he had the chance?

Resigning to deal with it later, Bellamy made breakfast and got ready for work. He had an important project to present today and if he was off his game his students would catch on and their focus would be out the window.

 

 

That night, Bellamy made lasagna as a peace offering. Clarke had eaten almost half a pan last time he’d left one in the fridge. He even made garlic bread, which he was sure she would like.

Clarke didn’t come home that night. There was probably just an emergency at the hospital and she needed to stay late. Bellamy set aside a huge slice of the lasagna and almost half the loaf of bread and put the rest in the freezer.

But Clarke didn’t come home that night at all, or in the morning, or the next night. Bellamy began to worry, so he called Octavia.

“Do you know where Clarke is?”

“No idea, why?”

“She hasn’t been home for a few days.”

“Maybe she’s staying with Raven.”

It was a distinct possibility. They had both needed to cool down and it was might have been better to avoid each other at first, but now Bellamy was really starting to worry.

“I’ll call her.”

He went to hang up, but Octavia stopped him, “Bell?”

“What?”

“You're not a bad person just because you have money.”

Bellamy hadn’t talked about that night with anyone since it happened. In fact, he had been going out of his way to avoid all of their friends.

“I know, O, okay? I want to apologize, but she hasn’t been home and she won’t answer my calls.”

Octavia took a deep breath. “She told me the tickets really were a gift, she didn’t buy them herself. But it doesn’t matter if she had. Clarke is one of my favorite people ever and…”

“What?” Bellamy urged. Obviously, his sister had more to say.

“Nothing, I just think you need to talk to Clarke. Even if you end up moving out, or she does, you can’t leave things like this.”

“I know, I know. At the time, I was just drunk and it made me so mad, but I didn’t realize how upset I was making her. And I think a part of me was just jealous because her gift was so awesome and mine was so… lame.”

“I loved your present, Bell. You could’ve gotten me a chocolate bar and I would’ve loved it.”

That made him smile. Even at his worst, Octavia was always there for him.

Eventually, they hung up and Bellamy called Raven, but she wasn’t answering either. 

By some coincidence, Raven showed up at the door the next day.

“Is Clarke here?”

Bellamy ushered her in. “No, I haven’t seen her for days now.”

“What do you mean? She’s working mornings this week and today is her day off.”

Bellamy ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know where she is, I haven’t seen her since Sunday morning. I’ve tried calling, but she isn’t answering. Octavia thought maybe she was staying with you.”

Raven glanced around the room for a moment, thinking. She didn’t seem to be panicked about Clarke’s whereabouts, so that was mildly reassuring.

“She’s probably sleeping at the hospital.” 

Well, he hadn’t thought of that. Was she just wearing scrubs 24/7? Showering there? Knowing Clarke, she was probably just living off of vending machine snacks and coffee.

“I don’t blame her,” Raven said, blunt. “I’m not sure I’d want to stay here either.”

Why would you want to live with someone who despised you?

Bellamy gulped. “I want to apologize.”

“You had no right to say those things to her.”

“I didn’t mean to take it so far. It’s just… you know how Octavia and I grew up.”

“I do, but just because you grew up in a shitty situation doesn’t mean people with good childhoods are terrible people. Clarke’s been through some bad stuff too." 

“I’m sure she has. I was just angry that she was hiding that shit from me all this time. If she was really our friend, why would she need to lie about who she is?”

Raven chewed her lip.

“Clarke’s not rich, Bellamy. Her family is, but her mom cut her off and kicked her out of the house.”

He jerked in surprise. That was news to him.

“The car was the only thing she let Clarke keep.” 

“Fuck,” he cursed softly. If it was possible, Bellamy felt like an even bigger ass than before. 

Raven gave him a small smile. “You didn’t know. Clarke doesn’t like talking about it and I’m sure she’s going to be pissed about me telling you, but you’re a good guy and I know you wouldn’t have said those things if you’d known.”

She was right. He never would of said those things if he’d known. He knew he shouldn’t have even said them in the first place.

“I’ll go with you to the hospital,” Bellamy suggested. He needed to make this right before he and Clarke’s relationship was ruined beyond repair, but Raven shook her head. 

“I’ll go get her and drag her back here. Clarke can be the queen of hiding from her problems when she wants to, but she might try to stab you with a scalpel if you show up at the hospital.” 

Bellamy chuckled halfheartedly and Raven gave a final solute as she left.

He stayed up late that night, waiting for them to return. About eleven fifteen, he heard a key in the lock.

Clarke entered alone wearing a grey pair of scrubs he didn’t recognize. She glanced at him, toed off her shoes, and set her bag down in one of the dining room chairs. Apparently thinking better of it, she picked up the bag and started towards her room.

Bellamy’s gut clenched. She was cleaning up after herself, probably to avoid another fight. Honestly, he’d sort of missed seeing her stuff lying around. It made the apartment feel homier and more lived in. Not that he’d ever tell her that.

“Clarke!” Bellamy called before she could lock herself in her room for the night. He caught up to her in the hallway.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” she said.

“I was waiting for you,” he admitted.

“Why?” 

“I wanted to apologize for what I said. I’m sorry for being such an asshole about you having money and I’m sorry for all the stuff I said about your dad.” 

Clarke seemed to study him for a moment.

“You were right about some things. I should clean up after myself more and I’ll try to do more around the apartment.” 

“It’s okay. I know I can get a little… _particular_ sometimes.”

That was an understatement.

“I already told Octavia, but I wanted you to know that I didn’t buy that resort trip. It was given to me.”

“It would’ve been okay if you had. It was a really great gift.” 

Clarke smiled, but it faded quickly. “My mom and her new husband are going and they bought those tickets hoping I would join them.”

“I thought your mom cut you off?”

Clarke flinched.

“Raven told me,” he admitted with a grimace.

“Of course she did. My mom kicked me out about two years ago, but I don’t think she expected me to actually manage without her. She’s trying to fix everything by inviting me on all these fancy trips.” 

“Do you not want to fix things?”

“It’s complicated,” Clarke said simply and Bellamy nodded. He hadn’t meant to ask such a personal question, but the words sort of popped out of his mouth.

“Alright.” 

“I’m going to go to bed. My back is killing me. Hospital cots have no support.”

“Now who’s the old man?” Bellamy joked.

“Still you. Goodnight.”

“Clarke,” he said louder than intended, “I really am sorry.” 

“You’re forgiven. I’m sorry I threw that bottle.”

“You’re lucky I have quick reflexes.”

 Clarke rolled her eyes. “If I hadn’t had so much to drink, I wouldn’t have missed.”

“Yeah, whatever you say, Princess.”

This time when he called her Princess, it didn’t sound like an insult and Clarke decided not to let it bother her. Bellamy turned on his heel, headed for his own room. 

“There’s lasagna in the freezer!” he called over his shoulder and Clarke paused just inside her room. Of course Bellamy had known she would be starving.

Bellamy felt better after apologizing and he knew Clarke meant it when she said he was forgiven, but he couldn't help but feel that there was still something wedged between them. Mistrust maybe? Hurt? He didn't know if they would ever be back on really good terms. Maybe he had said too much. Maybe her throwing the bottle was the final straw in their already strained relationship. Only time would tell. 


	7. Chapter 7

Bellamy and Clarke were extra careful around each other after The Incident. Whenever they went out with their friends to the bar, they sat on opposite ends of the table. Whoever was up first in the morning would make a pot of coffee and leave it for the other to empty and clean. Clarke started grocery shopping more, even though she didn’t have a damn idea how to cook and had to watch a thousand videos just to make one dish. After a few weeks she gave up and started buying prepackaged meals again. Bellamy stopped commenting on her dietary habits, even if they did worry him. Clarke’s room became a shithole of strewn clothes and shoes, but she had stopped leaving her stuff in the common area.

Every other weekend or so, Bellamy would go out drinking with Miller and Murphy. He usually ended up bringing home a girl, but Clarke kept her mouth shut. Sometimes she wanted to joke with him about not even offering the girls breakfast, but decided against it. They had found a way to be roommates without crossing the boundary into friendship. It wasn’t ideal, but at least there wasn’t any more fighting.

Clarke was in the kitchen drinking her last cup of coffee before heading off to work when her phone rang. It was Bellamy.

“Hello?”

“Clarke, hey. It’s me.”

“Uh, yeah I know. I have caller ID, Bellamy.”

“Right. Well, I was wondering if you could, uh, maybe…”

He sounded panicked, nervous even.

“What do you need?”

“I left my folder at home on my dresser and I would run home and get it, but I have this parent conference and I need it for my next class.”

Clarke glanced at the clock on the microwave. “My shift starts in fifteen.”

“Shit, okay. It’s alright, I’ll just try to get home during lunch or something.” 

Clarke tucked the phone between her shoulder and ear and started grabbing her purse and keys.

“I’ll drop it off on my way to work.”

Bellamy paused. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, my attending loves me. Shouldn’t be a big deal if I’m a few minutes late.”

The truth was her attending tolerated her- if that. But Bellamy sounded desperate and his school was on the way to the hospital anyway.

“Thanks, Clarke.”

“No problem, I’ll be there in ten.” She disconnected, grabbing the folder from Bellamy’s room and jogging out of the apartment. 

The classes all seemed to be in session when she got there and the secretary pointed her in the direction of Bellamy’s classroom. She peeked in before entering. Bellamy was at his desk, bent over grading a paper or something and it looked like the kids were taking a test. The walls were covered with history posters and maps and he had rows of bookcases. It was all so very _Bellamy_. 

They all looked up when Clarke entered. 

“Oh thank god. You’re a life saver, Clarke. Thank you,” Bellamy breathed. 

“You’re welcome,” she smiled, handing him the folder and immediately turning on her heel to leave. Without too much traffic she’d probably only be fifteen minutes late. 

“Mr. Blake, is that your girlfriend?”

Clarke froze, glancing at the class with wide eyes and then at Bellamy.

“I thought he was married.”

“She’s so pretty.”

“No, he said he wasn’t married.”

“You didn’t tell us your girlfriend was a nurse.”

Clarke blushed- she couldn’t help it- and even Bellamy’s cheeks had a tinge of pink.

“Doctor,” he snapped, “And she’s not my girlfriend. Since you’re all talking, I assume you’re done with the test?”

The kids who had spoken quickly shook their heads and returned to the exam.

Bellamy grimaced, “That’s what I thought. Keep working.”

It looked like he wanted to apologize, but Clarke waved him off, telling him it was fine.

“See ya,” she said and started towards the door again. 

He almost said 'see you tonight' but thought better of it when he saw the sly way his students were looking between him and Clarke. Damn teenagers. 

"Thanks again. I'll see you later."

 

* * *

 

At one point when Clarke was checking on Murphy at the bar, she had talked to Echo to clear things up. Explaining that her and Bellamy weren't really together, she was just trying to fuck with him. Echo ended up calling Bellamy the next day and they went out that night. She was fun and drank like a sailor and her and Bellamy had a lot in common. So, it wasn’t a surprise when he brought her home.

But after eating pretzels at the bar all night, Bellamy was dying of thirst. The whole apartment was pitch black as he stumbled out of his room to get a glass of water. 

When he turned back towards his room, he almost dropped the glass. 

“Oh fuck!”

There was a figure on the couch that he definitely hadn’t seen the first time he’d walked by. He ran to turn on a lamp and the figure’s blonde hair became visible. Bellamy allowed himself to breathe again. It was just Clarke.

But what was she was doing sitting in the dark at two in the morning? 

“Clarke?”

She didn’t move and Bellamy set his glass of water down to turn on another lamp. Maybe she was just sleeping after a long day of work.

Light flooded the room and Bellamy blinked a few times to adjust his eyes.

Clarke was not sleeping. In fact, she was very much awake and very much covered in blood. So much blood that the front of her blue scrubs were almost black. 

Bellamy gulped, his body growing cold. He’d only ever seen that much blood in movies.

Setting the water down on the coffee table, Bellamy crouched down in front of her. Clarke’s eyes looked right through him.

“Clarke, what’s wrong?” he shook her shoulders lightly and a few loose hairs fell forward into her face.

Echo sauntered into the living room wearing one of his button-up shirts and nothing else.

“Bellamy, what’s taking so long?” she whined, but hesitated when she saw Clarke.

“You need to go. _Now_ ,” Bellamy said, glancing over his shoulder at her. 

“But we haven’t even-”

“Echo, just get your shit and go, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow.” 

Something was really wrong with Clarke and he just couldn’t think about anything else right now. Why wasn’t she talking? What had happened? Who’s blood was that? And most importantly, what the fuck was he supposed to do help her?

Echo pouted, but Bellamy had already turned his attention back to Clarke. 

“Clarke, talk to me please. What’s going on? Should I call Raven? Octavia?”

Slowly, her glassy eyes sharpened. “Hey, Bellamy. Sorry I just, I think I just need to go to bed.”

It was good to hear her speak at least. 

Tentatively, Bellamy removed his hands from her shoulders. “Okay… Clarke, are you sure you’re okay? You’re covered in blood.”

A door slammed behind them as Echo left.

“Its not mine,” Clarke said hollowly.

Bellamy imagined doctors got blood on their scrubs all the time. But he didn’t need to know much about medicine to know that the amount of blood on Clarke’s clothes was not normal.

“Don’t they have showers at the hospital?”

She nodded, but didn’t say anything. Bellamy’s heart was pounding in his chest. What the fuck was he supposed to do? He’d never seen Clarke like this. Sure, she’d had bad days but those usually resulted in Netflix binges, long naps, and hot baths.

His hand reached out to take hers. 

“Jesus, you’re freezing!”

“I forgot my coat.”

“Don’t you park in the garage?”

Clarke had once told him that she never brought a coat, because she could go from her car to work and the apartment without ever stepping foot outside. 

“Yeah, but I walked home.”

“What! Clarke, it’s snowing outside and you walked home in scrubs? It’s two in the morning and the hospital is like three miles away. What the fuck were you thinking?”

She could have been mugged! Kidnapped! Died from hypothermia! 

Clarke squeezed his warm hand with her chilled fingers. There was something dark and broken in her eyes and Bellamy wished he knew what was wrong, how to comfort her. 

“I couldn’t get in a car,” she whispered, “She- she got hit by a car and it was so bad. So much blood. Her bones, her face...I just couldn’t get in my car.”

Bellamy put the pieces together. “I’m sure you did everything you could, Clarke.”

“I did. We all did,” her body shuddered, “She still died.” 

Bellamy lifted his other hand to her face, pushing loose hairs out of her eyes and catching her chin. 

“Clarke, look at me.” 

She did.

“I know you tried your best to save her and you can’t blame yourself, Clarke. _It’s not your fault._ Do you understand me?”

Tears fell from her eyes and Bellamy quickly wiped them away. 

“Tell me you know that it’s not your fault, Clarke.”

It took her a moment. “It’s not my fault.”

Bellamy nodded, letting go of her chin.

“I’m going to go take a shower,” she finally said. 

Bellamy backed away from the couch and allowed her to pass. As soon as he heard the shower start, he grabbed his phone.

First, he called Raven and then Octavia, but neither answered. He was about to put his phone away when something caught his eye. Three missed calls and a voicemail notification.

Bellamy clicked on the icon, surprised to see that the missed calls were from his principal, Marcus Kane.

“Hey Bellamy, I’m sorry to do this over voicemail, but I have a lot more phone calls to make and you weren’t answering. I just want you to know what you’ll be walking into tomorrow at school. We lost a student tonight. And I’m sorry, but,” Kane took a deep breath, “It’s Charlotte. I know she loved your class and you two were close. I’m so sorry to tell you this over the phone, Bellamy. She was a good kid. We will be having a staff meeting at seven tomorrow morning to go over how we will handle this with the other students. Again, Bellamy, I’m sorry.” The line clicked and Bellamy tired to lower the phone from his ear, but couldn’t.

There was a scuffling sound and Bellamy turned, finding Clarke in her towel behind him, wet hair plastered to her cheeks. She glanced at the phone still at his ear and then his lost expression. 

“She was one of yours, wasn’t she?” Clarke whispered. When he didn’t say anything, her face broke. “I’m so sorry, Bellamy. I’m so sorry! I didn’t want her to die… I, I tried-” she sobbed. 

The phone clattered to the ground as Bellamy strode forward, grabbing Clarke on the upper arms and hauling her into his chest. She clawed at his shirt and Bellamy buried his face into her wet hair.

They allowed themselves to fall apart for a few minutes, taking comfort in being in each other’s arms. Bellamy told her it was okay, that it wasn’t her fault over and over again. Clarke sobbed, telling Bellamy how she was so worried that Charlotte was one of his, how hard she fought for the girl to live.

Eventually, Clarke pulled back and Bellamy dropped his arms. 

“I’m going to go put some clothes on.”

When she came back out, Bellamy was on the couch, staring blankly at the TV screen. She sat down next to him and grabbed the blanket nearby, covering them both. He didn’t resist when Clarke pulled his neck down to rest on her shoulder and began running her hands through his hair.

He told her a few stories about Charlotte and Clarke smiled, even though they both were in tears. Eventually, Bellamy fell asleep- his head rested on Clarke’s chest and hands wrapped around her middle. Clarke continued to run her hands through his hair even after he was asleep and shifted them so that she could lie against the couch pillows. She fell asleep with Bellamy’s heavy but reassuring body almost completely covering hers.


	8. Chapter 8

It took a while for Bellamy to realize where he was when he first woke up, but then he heard a soft snore and found Clarke asleep next to him. Well, really she was underneath him. Carefully, Bellamy pulled his arms out from where they were wrapped around her. It was still dark out and all he really wanted to do was lay back down and pull Clarke onto his chest. It must have been uncomfortable sleeping with him on top of her all night. But, he had to be at school early today.

Bellamy shifted the blanket so that it was covering Clarke and went to shower. The bloody scrubs were visible in the bathroom trash and his stomach instantly recoiled. That was Charlotte’s blood. 

Before he could actually throw up, Bellamy jumped in the shower and turned the water cold. 

Clarke was hovering over a pot of coffee when Bellamy came out of the bathroom. 

“Sorry if I woke you.”

He reached for a mug.

“I have a shift this morning,” she muttered, watching the dark liquid fill the decanter. Her bloodshot eyes swung to his and Bellamy wondered if he looked as bad as she did. Probably. Though, the shower had helped some. “Can you drive me to work?”

Bellamy checked his watch. “Sure, we just gotta leave in the next fifteen minutes.” 

Clarke glared ruefully at the coffee maker that was taking its sweet time. 

“Go get ready. I’ll fill your thermos,” Bellamy said and Clarke shot him a grateful look.

  

The car ride was silent except for Bellamy’s music playing lowly in the background. Clarke looked like hell, but at least she had combed her hair and brushed her teeth. Bellamy felt like Clarke looked. He’d never lost a student before. It wasn’t uncommon – tragic accidents happened all the time- but it had never been one of _his_ students. 

Bellamy pulled into the parking garage, quickly spotting Clarke’s car.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Clarke,” he reached for her elbow. “If you need anything today, just let me know.”

Clarke gulped, glancing at her car and then back to Bellamy.

“I’ll have someone drive me home.”

She still didn’t want to drive and he couldn’t blame her.

“I’ll pick you up.”

Clarke shook her head. “No, I can’t leave my car here overnight again. They’ll tow it.”

Bellamy chewed his lip. “Look, after the day I’m about to have, I’m pretty sure I’ll need a release. I’ll run here from the apartment and drive you home.”

“Are you sure?” 

Bellamy released her elbow. “Yeah, it’s not a problem, Clarke. I don’t want you to walk home again and I’d rather make sure you’re safe. If you don’t want to drive, you shouldn’t have to.” 

“Thanks, Bellamy,” she whispered and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. It caught them both by surprise. Sure, she had done it before but that was when she was trying to scare Echo off. Before it had been a stunt. This wasn't. 

When she pulled back, her cheeks were flushed and Bellamy coughed.

“Have a good day.”

Clarke reached for the handle. “You too. If you need anything…”

“Don’t worry, Griffin, I’ve already got your number," he smirked. 

But even as he joked, Bellamy knew that it was going to be a terrible day. For him and Clarke both. Their offers of help weren’t empty promises. 

 

 

Bellamy usually took his lunch break to read and plan, but not today. Today, he let students eat in his classroom and relax. The school was grieving and Bellamy wanted to offer all the support he could to the kids. If that meant making a mess of his room, then so be it. 

He wandered off to get a fork from the teacher’s lounge and was surprised to see a familiar face in the hallway.

“Clarke?”

She was coming towards him, smiling as she handed over a bag. “I brought you lunch.”

Well this was unexpected. Bellamy raised an eyebrow and peeked inside. It looked like sandwiches and chips. Maybe a cookie or two.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

He tucked the bag under his arm. 

“Yeah well, I didn’t do it on my own,” Clarke looked over her shoulder just as Octavia came flying around the corner. She crashed into Bellamy, definitely smashing the bag of food Clarke had just given him. Bellamy had to catch himself on one of the nearby lockers to keep from falling over.

“Jesus, O.” 

Octavia pulled back and smacked him on the shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

Octavia smacked him harder. “You know damn well what, Bellamy. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I got busy, O, okay?” he glanced at Clarke, but her face was neutral. Yeah, he’d been busy crying in her arms, sleeping with her on the couch, and then trying to pull himself together to look strong for the kids. 

“Clarke told me over the phone when I asked if she wanted to grab lunch.” Octavia was steering them back to his classroom. “So, now you get lunch and you get to talk to your sister about it.” 

Bellamy grumbled something under his breath, but allowed Octavia to push him forward. There was no getting in her way when she put her mind to something. Especially if she thought he was upset about something. 

The sandwiches were good. Not great, but they did the trick. He hadn't eaten all day. Clarke, Bellamy, and Octavia ate around Bellamy’s desk and talked in hushed tones. Most of the students were sitting at the back of the classroom chatting and not paying much attention to the adults.

“What happened?” Octavia said. She was nothing if not blunt.

“She was out late last night and crossed the road in front of a car. The driver never even saw her coming,” Bellamy said. 

“That’s awful. Was it-” Octavia lowered her voice, “was it instant?”

“No,” Clarke said softly, “She didn’t go until a few hours later.” 

“Can we change the subject, please?” Bellamy begged. He hated the empty look in Clarke’s eyes and he’d thought about Charlotte’s death enough today.

Octavia shifted gears.

“Fine. What’s going on with you and Echo?”

Bellamy cursed. “Dammit, I was supposed to call her today.”

“I’m sure she’ll understand,” Clarke said, but Bellamy wasn’t so sure. He had basically told her to get the fuck out last night.

The bell for class rung and Bellamy began packing up their leftover food. He'd never been so grateful to hear that bell- anything to get him out of this excruciating conversation. 

“I’m going to come by the apartment tonight, Bell,” Octavia said and Bellamy just rolled his eyes. He didn’t need his little sister mothering him.

“I’m fine, O.”

“No you’re not. And neither are you,” she turned on Clarke, who had barely touched her food.

Clarke didn’t even blink as Octavia pointed her finger. 

Students began filling into the room, some glancing curiously at Mr. Blake and the two women before taking their seats. 

“Clarke?”

A dark haired girl with light eyes stared from the doorway. She was wearing ripped jeans, a black t-shirt that had seen better days, and her hair was a mess of braided curls. 

“Hey, Madi. I thought I might see you.”

She vaulted forward, embracing Clarke fiercely.

“What are you doing here?” Madi asked as she finally pulled away from the hug.

“I’m here bringing Bell- I mean, Mr. Blake, lunch.”

Bellamy's eyebrows were practically in his hairline and Octavia was just studying the young girl with narrowed eyes. 

“How do you know Clarke?” Madi turned on Bellamy suddenly and he blinked at the protectiveness in her voice. The better question was how did Madi know Clarke? Madi was one of his high risk students- always late, never turned work in on time, and constantly bounced around from foster family to foster family.

He raised an eyebrow, but Clarke answered before he could. “He’s my roommate.”

Madi’s eyes widened. “ _He’s_ your roommate? Oh my god. The one who’s stuff you put labels all over?” 

Bellamy snapped his head to Clarke and she flushed. Why was she telling his _students_ about that?  

“Whoa, whoa, what is going on here? How do you know the kid?” Octavia interjected.

“Madi volunteers at the hospital and she’s usually in the gallery when I’m doing surgery.” 

“And she taught me how to use a scalpel and how to suture,” Madi grinned. 

“You’re not supposed to tell people about that,” Clarke growled, but there was warmth in her tone. 

By now, all the students had found their desks and were openly staring at the front of the room.

“Madi, there you are,” someone breathed. Together, they all turned towards the male voice. “You aren’t allowed to leave detention until the teacher allows it. Ms. Green said you slipped out when she had her back turned-” The man noticed who was standing over Madi's shoulder and his words tapered out.

“Clarke?”

“Marcus?”

“What are you doing here?” he said.

“How do you know Clarke?” Bellamy asked, taking a step forward.

Today just got weirder and weirder.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Clarke echoed angrily. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Octavia shouted and the teenagers burst into giggles.

"O!" Bellamy shouted and elbowed her in the ribs. She slapped a hand over her mouth in shame. Whoops.  

 This was all too confusing for Bellamy. First Madi, and now his principal knew Clarke too? And then his sister had said the f word in front of thirty fourteen-year-olds. 

"Clarke, your mother has been trying to get ahold of you for months," Kane said. 

"Too bad she didn't try very hard to be a good mother."

Without saying goodbye, Clarke left the room, leaving the sandwich and bag of chips she hadn't eaten. 

Bellamy groaned- when had his life become a damn soap opera? 


	9. Chapter 9

“So, do you wanna explain to me what that thing at school was all about?” Bellamy panted.

Clarke spun, almost bumping into Bellamy’s chest. 

As promised, he had run from their apartment to come drive her home. At the hospital, he hadn’t had to look very hard for her after a nurse pointed him in the right direction.

“What thing?” she said, turning back towards the iPad on the doctors’ station in front of her.

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me, Clarke.”

She continued to ignore him, glancing briefly at a piece of paper and then typing the words into a document.

“Maybe you should go get a drink of water while I finish this. You’re breathing so hard I feel like there’s a fan on the back of my neck.” 

“Whatever.”

Peeved, Bellamy went in search of a water fountain. No way was he going to let this go, but the more he pestered her, the less likely Clarke was to talk to him. He'd learned that the hard way. 

Clarke found him seated in a nearby hallway. A bag was slung over her shoulders and she'd put a winter jacket on over the scrubs. 

“Alright, lets go.”

Bellamy hopped up and Clarke handed over her car keys. 

“Marcus Kane is my mother’s husband,” she muttered as they walked.

Bellamy let that sink in for a moment as they found her car and got inside. After sitting all night, it was freezing and would take a while to heat up. 

He had never heard Kane talk about a wife, but he had seen a picture on his desk of a woman that looked nothing like Clarke. From Bellamy's brief time at the school, he respected and liked Kane. He was a good principal and always seemed to put the kids first. 

“How did you not know where he worked?” Bellamy finally asked.

Clarke sighed. “He used to be a superintendent of a school district in Virginia. I had no idea they moved.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Marcus is fine… I guess. But now that he knows we know each other, he will tell my mom.” Clarke cringed a little and glanced out the window. “He may ask you things about me, for my mom. She tries to get as much information as she can without actually talking to me.”

Bellamy hadn’t thought of that and it sort of made him sick. What kind of fucked up relationship did Clarke and her mother have? 

“I wont tell him anything, Clarke. I promise.”

Clarke met Bellamy's eyes and nodded. She believed him. Bellamy inclined his chin and it felt like they had just made some sort of weird pact. 

“Want to get pizza on the way home?” Clarke suggested, clearing her throat to air out the strange vibe in the car. 

“I have all the stuff to make pizza at home.”

Clarke shrugged. “Fine with me as long as there's bell peppers.”

"Yes, Princess."

"Shut up," she grumbled without heat and Bellamy smirked. 

The car ride home was silent, but not uncomfortable. It wasn’t full of the miserable grief that had made the morning car ride quiet. 

 

* * *

 

Two weeks had passed. Bellamy and Clarke had both been having a hard time sleeping- Clarke more so. They would stay up into the early hours of the morning watching TV, but not really paying attention to what was on the screen. Bellamy would usually fall asleep on the couch and Clarke would cover him with a blanket and retire to her own room to lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling until it was light out. They didn't talk about it, they didn't really need to, but Bellamy dropped Clarke off at the hospital every morning. If she didn't have a late shift, Bellamy would take her home too. 

Still, things were starting to get better. Bellamy's students were back to normal for the most part and school continued on like it always had. Christmas break was coming up and he was ready for the relaxation time. Only one thing was really bothering him. Someone was messing with his classroom and for the life of him, Bellamy couldn't figure out who it was. Each day, his books would be in a different order or strewn about the room and he would have to spend all morning putting them back. He had a suspicion that it was one of his students from last year trying to get back at him for so many lunch detentions, but he had no real proof. 

The whole gang had started hanging out at Clarke and Bellamy's apartment more. He couldn't be sure, but it felt like they had a schedule for stopping by. Someone was always bringing Clarke food or taking her out. At night, Miller, Murphy, or Octavia was there trying to get Bellamy to play video games or go out for a drink- depending on the person. Clarke and Bellamy complained about their friends smothering them, but when everyone left for the night they could brood and sulk together all they wanted. It was perfect and it helped. 

 

"What are you doing for Christmas?" Bellamy asked Clarke one night. 

Bellamy and Octavia planned on spending Christmas at Octavia and Lincoln's place and it was unlikely Clarke would be going to spend any time with her mom. He didn't want her to be in the apartment all alone. 

"I'm going to New Jersey."

Bellamy turned the volume on the TV down. Food Network could wait. Besides, one of the Chopped contestants was trying to make ice cream in the last ten minutes and they all knew how well that would turn out. 

"What's in New Jersey?" 

Clarke shifted under the blanket, hiding her chin. 

"Family friends," she said, but it sounded like a half truth.

"You okay to drive that far?" 

It was easily a four to five hour trip depending on traffic and Clarke hadn't driven for weeks- still scarred by what the car had done to Charlotte.  

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm driving up on Christmas Eve and I'll be back Christmas night." 

Bellamy studied her, but her face gave nothing away. This was the first time he'd heard about Clarke's 'family friends' in New Jersey. 

"Well, you can stop by Octavia's place Christmas night if you'd like. I'm cooking dinner. Miller, Jackson, Lincoln and Jasper will all be there."

Clarke grabbed the remote from his hand and turned the volume up again.

"If I'm back in time, sure." 

 

When Bellamy asked Raven if she knew where Clarke was going, she seemed just as clueless as him. In fact, no one seemed to know where Clarke was going for Christmas or who was in New Jersey. But on Christmas Eve morning, no one stopped her as she drove off.

"Text me when you get there," Bellamy said, loading her small bag into the backseat.

Something about this just felt so off, so peculiar. Clarke was obviously hiding something, but it wasn't Bellamy's place to pry. Or to try and stop her from going. 

One side of her mouth lifted. "Yes, mom."

Bellamy watched her drive off and tried to ignore the pit in his stomach. When he got back inside and started packing up the food and gifts he had bought to take over to Octavia's, Bellamy noticed a small package on the kitchen counter. 

_To Bellamy. From Clarke._

Clarke had left him a present. He tucked the neatly wrapped gift under his arm and headed out to his car. He didn't plan on opening it until Clarke was around and he could give her his present too. 

Maybe she'd show up for Christmas dinner. 


	10. Chapter 10

Christmas Day was going so well and then Lincoln had gotten down on one knee and Bellamy had about lost his mind. His sister was getting married. His baby sister was getting married to man she had only known for a year.

“Yes!” Octavia squealed, barely giving Lincoln time to put the ring on her finger before she was jumping into his arms.

Bellamy stood speechless, watching his sister kiss her new fiancé. There was a ringing in his ears and his legs felt like cement.

Eventually, Octavia noticed her brother’s frozen state.

“Bell?”

His cloudy gaze focused.

“Bellamy, please say something,” Octavia begged. There were tears in her eyes and Lincoln stepped forward to put a supportive hand on her shoulder, glancing at Bellamy cautiously.

“I, I don’t-”

Thankfully, someone chose that moment to knock on the door. No one moved. It became clear that Octavia, Bellamy and Lincoln weren’t going to go see who it was, so Jasper ran off to answer it. 

He came back moments later, holding a brown paper bag and trailed by Clarke.

She took one look at the room and knew something wasn’t right.

“What happened?”

Octavia turned to her friend, her smile wobbly. “Lincoln asked me to marry him.”

“Oh my god! That’s great!” Clarke embraced the brunette girl. “Congratulations!” she cried, gathering Lincoln into her arms as well. It was the kind of reaction Octavia had hoped from her brother.

When they pulled apart, Clarke met Bellamy’s eyes over Octavia’s shoulder, recognizing his shock.

“Lincoln, could you help me get all this stuff to the kitchen?” Clarke asked, lifting up what looked like a small grocery bag. It didn’t look big enough to need help, but Lincoln glanced between the Blake siblings and nodded. Jasper, Miller and Jackson seemed to get the memo too and all suddenly remembered something they had to do upstairs. 

In the kitchen, Clarke turned on Lincoln. 

“Why didn’t you ask for Bellamy’s blessing?” 

Lincoln blinked, not used to having Clarke’s anger pointed at him.

“I was going to, but I just got the ring a few days ago. I was going to ask him, I promise, Clarke. Tonight just felt like the perfect night. I couldn’t wait!”

She crossed her arms, assessing him. “You still should have asked.”

Lincoln rubbed a hand over his face in shame. “Fuck. He’s going to try and kill me, isn’t he?”

Bellamy and Octavia were having their own hushed conversation in the living room.

“Why can’t you just be happy for me, Bell?”

“I am happy for you, O. It just surprised me, that’s all!”

“Well you could at least congratulate me!”

Bellamy flinched. “Congrats, O. Really. I like Lincoln and I know how happy he makes you.”

“Then why don’t you look happy?” she snapped. Bellamy took a deep breath. It wasn’t a lie when he said he was happy for her, he just didn’t think it would happen so soon. 

“You’re all I have, O. I just… I just want you to be happy and-”

“I am happy.” 

Bellamy nodded. Why couldn’t he put into words how he was feeling? 

“If you’re happy, I’m happy,” he settled on.

Octavia was glaring up at him and Bellamy felt instantly guilty. He had gone and ruined his sister’s perfect night. And for what? Because his baby sister was moving on and getting married? Because her fiancé was actually a good man and would take care of her? God, Bellamy felt like shit for reacting the way he had. 

Clarke popped her head into the living room. “A timer just went off and unless you want me to ruin dinner, I think someone else should come check on the food. 

“I’ll be right there,” Bellamy said and Clarke glanced between the two of them before nodding and leaning back into the kitchen.

“Can you forgive me? For acting like an ass?” Bellamy asked and Octavia’s glare turned somber.

“Of course, Bell.” She leaned forward, resting her head on his chest and Bellamy wrapped his arms around her small frame.

“I love you,” he whispered. “And I can’t wait to see you get married, O.”

“Love you too,” she grumbled against his shirt.

 

 

Dinner was delicious. Bellamy had spent all day prepping a ham, mashed potatoes, green beans, and mac and cheese. Jackson had made some sort of cake for dessert and Clarke had brought wine. 

After plates were filled and glasses poured, they all sat down to stuff their faces.

“Didn’t know you were coming, Griffin,” Jasper said behind a mouthful of potatoes.

“I wasn’t sure I was going to make it,” she said and sipped her wine.

“How was New Jersey?” Bellamy asked.

Clarke played with a green bean for a minute before answering. “Fine.”

It was clear that’s all she was going to say on the matter and Jasper launched into some story about the new project he and Monty were working on at the lab.

As dessert was being served, Miller leaned over the table to whisper to Clarke. Bellamy only heard them because he was passing by with a new bottle of wine for the table. 

“Did Bellamy say you went to New Jersey?” 

“Yeah, just for the day.”

“Why didn’t you ask someone to go with you, Clarke? I could’ve. Or Raven.” 

Clarke shook her head, passing over her half empty plate to Octavia as she cleared the dishes.

“Raven doesn’t know that’s where he is.” 

“Well then why didn’t you ask me?”

“Just drop it, Miller. Okay?” she gritted.

Miller huffed and sat back in his chair, but Bellamy recognized the worried look on his friend’s face. Who could possibly be in New Jersey that connected Miller, Raven and Clarke? 

Bellamy didn’t have time to ask, because Jackson set down a huge slice of chocolate cake in front of him and Lincoln leaned over to ask about his upcoming semester. Bellamy was planning a huge unit on Ancient Greece and had been waiting to talk to someone about it.

Raven, Monty and Harper wandered in a few hours later. They had spent the day with their families- well Raven had been with Finn- and came to Octavia’s for gift exchanges and booze.

Raven set down a case of beers and immediately started passing them around before taking her seat next to Clarke in the large reclining chair.

“Okay, so who’s first?” Octavia clapped her hands together in excitement. Christmas was her favorite.

“I’ll go,” Miller said, handing over a bag to Jackson and one to Bellamy.

Bellamy reached under the tree to hand him his gift and Jackson handed over a simple card. 

Miller had gotten both men new watches and Bellamy smirked. He had gotten Miller a watch as well. Jackson had gotten them annual ski passes and a couples spa day.

After the first few presents were opened, wrapping paper and bows started flying around the room. It was a free for all, as people tossed packages and exchanged hugs and ‘thank yous’.

Only a few gifts were left under the tree by the end. And they all belonged to Clarke or were from Clarke.

“Where did she go?” Raven glanced around the room. In all the chaos, Clarke had managed to slip away.

“Maybe she went to the bathroom,” Octavia suggested, but when she checked, the bathroom was empty.

Bellamy got up to grab his phone and call her, but then the patio door slid open and Clarke rushed in, holding her jacket close to her body as snow whipped around behind her.

“Sorry,” she muttered, “I had to take a call.”

She took a seat, her face growing hot when she realized everyone had been waiting on her. 

“Octavia, can you pass out my gifts?”

Octavia nodded and got to work distributing the packages- most of them small and neatly wrapped. 

At Clarke’s indication, they all began to unwrap. Unsurprisingly, Octavia got hers open first. 

“Clarke, this is awesome!”

She held it up for everyone to see. It was a coaster, painted and glazed with a picture of Octavia on it. It was in cartoon form, with her hair in a high pony and her arms raised with boxing gloves on. Her green eyes were wide and she had one eyebrow raised, like she was going to kick someone’s ass.

“I figured everyone should have their own, since Bellamy always insists we use them,” Clarke grinned.

He grumbled something under his breath about water rings and Clarke’s smile only widened.

Each coaster was unique- looking just like the person but also with a bit of personality. Jasper’s was him in a lab- goggles on his forehead and some concoction blowing up in the background. Raven was standing with a wrench on her shoulder and one hip cocked- looking intimidating and badass all at once. Miller was in his police uniform, smiling but just barely. Jackson was wearing his white doctor’s coat, but on his chest was a police badge- for Miller. And around Miller’s neck was a stethoscope. They were so well painted and personalized, that everyone couldn’t help but pass each other’s around. 

Clarke smiled as they admired their adorable self-portraits, but when she looked at Bellamy, her face dropped. She’d left his gift on the kitchen counter yesterday, but he wasn't opening anything.

Bellamy had accidentally left it in his car and he tried to tell her as much, but Clarke’s phone rang and she jumped up, taking the stairs two at a time before answering it.

“Who keeps calling Clarke?” Bellamy wondered out loud. 

“Probably her mother,” Raven muttered, disgusted. “I’ll go check on her.”

“I’ll go with you,” Miller suggested, surprising everyone. The offer made Raven start, but then Miller gave her a pointed look and something in her face changed. 

“She went to New Jersey,” Raven said, realization hitting her.

Miller nodded, rough. “She went to New Jersey,” he said it like Raven had asked a question. 

They rushed up the stairs towards Clarke, leaving everyone else to wonder what the hell was going on. That feeling had become common in Bellamy’s life lately and he was getting tired of it.

A minute later, Clarke stomped down the stairs, Raven and Miller on her heels.

“I said I’m fine, okay! Thelonius just keeps calling to make sure I’m all right and I don’t need you two worrying over me either!”

“Clarke, why didn’t you tell me that’s where you were going?” Raven asked, her eyes sad.

“I wanted to go alone.”

“You still should have told me.”

“You would have insisted on coming along.”

“Clarke, that’s not something you do alone,” Miller said softly.

“Really? Because I go alone every fucking time!” Clarke almost screamed.

Her screech quieted the room and Bellamy could almost see the sweat beading on her forehead. She was swaying on her feet, but it wasn’t from drinking. Instinctually, Bellamy put a hand on her shoulder to steady her and Clarke flinched at the contact, but settled when she saw who it was behind her. 

“Clarke,” Bellamy’s voice was low, “Where did you go?”

Her eyes shone with unshed tears as they met his.

“I went to see Wells.”

Bellamy had heard stories about Wells, Clarke’s childhood best friend. Why were Raven and Miller worried about Clarke visiting him?

The confusion must have shown on Bellamy’s face, because Clarke cleared her throat to clarify.

“New Jersey is where he’s buried.”


	11. Chapter 11

“Clarke,” was all Bellamy could say, his voice heavy in sympathy.

“I’m fine. Honest. I just needed to see him, talk to him. We used to love Christmas.”

Used to, Clarke said. But not anymore. The holiday season was never the same after Wells had died.

Monty, being the smart one, was catching on faster than the rest of them. 

“Wait did you say Thelonius? As is Thelonius Jaha, the old mayor?”

 Clarke nodded.

“And you’re talking about Wells Jaha…” Monty trailed off. That name rang more than a few bells. It had been all over the newspapers for weeks.

When a famous politician’s son died in a school shooting, it became national news. Thelonius used the pity card to his advantage and ended up getting two more terms and major gun reformed passed. But after one too many corruption rumors, he decided to retire before he was forced to resign.

“Yeah, we grew up together,” Clarke said. She glanced around the room as the pieces started to click into place for her friends. Raven, Miller, and Octavia had already known about Wells. “I don’t need you guys to worry about me. It’s been a few years. It’s just that after Charlotte… I just needed to get away for a while.”

Bellamy understood. He didn’t tell Octavia, but every year on Mother’s Day he would visit their mom’s grave and bring flowers. It was one of the only times he let go of the anger he had for Aurora; anger for leaving them, for leaving him to be a father to Octavia, and for making terrible life choices that hurt them all.

“Maybe next time, just bring someone with you,” Raven suggested softly and Clarke crossed her arms around her middle, defensive.

“Fine. Now, can someone pass me a beer?”

Deflect and redirect. Clarke was good at both, especially when she suggested they play a card game and Jasper ran to go get a deck.

Two hours later, Bellamy was yawning and propping his head on the kitchen table. Monty and Jasper were arguing about some rule they had made up years ago. Octavia and Lincoln were in the kitchen, cleaning, even though it didn’t sound like they were running the water. Bellamy didn’t want to think about what they were actually doing. Clarke was leaning her head on Raven’s shoulder, whispering something to the other girl and giggling. 

“I’m going home,” Bellamy announced and Jasper booed.

“God, you’re such an old man, Blake!”

He ignored him. “Clarke, you need a ride?" 

She’d been drinking pretty heavily. 

“Sure,” she slurred, giving Raven a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“Hey! Where’s mine?” Jasper yelled and Clarke giggled, walking around the table to give everyone a kiss.

When she got to Bellamy she stumbled a bit, emotions cascading over her face, wondering if she could kiss him too. Bellamy made the decision for both of them.

“C’mon, I’ll get your coat,” he stepped into the nearby bedroom where everyone had tossed their winter layers and searched for her stuff.

He got Clarke to the car in one piece, even though she almost ate shit twice on the stairs.

“Wait! Take my car, Bell.”

“We can just leave it here, Clarke. You can come get it in the morning.” But Clarke wasn’t listening to him as she wandered off in the direction of her Mustang. Bellamy sighed, grabbing the small package he had left in the backseat of his car, and jogging off after her.

She was already in the passenger seat, leaning across the console and fumbling to turn the car on and start the heat. Bellamy slid in, taking the keys from her and sliding them in easily.

“My car not good enough for you, Princess?” Bellamy said.

Clarke stuck her tongue out at him and Bellamy just chuckled. 

Shoving her way into the backseat, Clarke said, “No, I just wanted to give you this.”

He watched, bemused, as Clarke almost toppled head first into the back, her ass up in the air and practically in his face. She shimmied her way back to the front, hair falling into her face. 

“Here.”

A heavy object was dropped into his lap.

“Clarke, you already gave me present. I just forgot to bring it inside.”

She leaned her head back against the headrest and mumbled, “That was just your coaster. This is the real one.”

Bellamy watched as Clarke closed her eyes and snuggled more permanently into the leather seats. It wasn’t until her breath deepened that he looked down at the present. It was wrapped in newspaper, obviously done in a hurry and looked like a… book? 

The paper fell away after the first tear.

He recognized the front cover immediately and Bellamy’s breath caught as he lifted the book delicately. _No way._

There was no way he could accept this. He turned to Clarke, intending to tell her that it was too much, but she was out cold.

Bellamy placed the book carefully in the wrapping and set it on her backseat. He reversed out of the parking space and started towards home. 

How the hell had Clarke gotten her hands on a first edition of an Iliad translation? Jesus, it must have cost thousands. And why would she get him something so nice? He’d give it back to her in the morning- even though it was the most beautiful book he’d ever seen.

 

 

 

There was a knock on the door early the next morning. Bellamy buried his head under a pillow, ignoring it. The knocking only got louder.

“Dammit!” he cursed, stumbling out of bed. Clarke sure as hell wasn’t going to answer it. He’d be surprised if she even got up before noon.

“Murphy, I swear to god-” Bellamy yanked the door open and stopped. It wasn’t Murphy. In fact, it wasn’t anyone he’d ever seen in person before.

“Bellamy Blake?”

The woman was dressed in cream colored slacks, a peach top, and her hair was perfectly straightened- highlighting her structured cheekbones.

Bellamy suddenly became very aware that he was only wearing boxers and the woman looked him up and down, disapproval written all over her face.

“Uh, who are you?” He ran a hand through his hair, attempting but failing to tame the bedhead curls.

“Abby Griffin. Is Clarke here?”

“Uhhhh,” Bellamy faltered.

Abby wiggled her way past him into the small foyer, ignoring Bellamy’s noise of surprise. He followed right behind her, now fully awake.

“Look, I don’t think Clarke wants you here.”

Abby stalked around the apartment, taking in the ratty furniture and old appliances, before settling her gaze back on Bellamy. He felt like an ant under a microscope and her high-end tailored clothes stood out against the apartment’s grunge.

“Is this her room?” Abby started towards the closed door with the princess sign hanging on the front.

“Hey, wait!” Bellamy reached out to stop her, but then there was a bang and Clarke’s bedroom door was flung open as Clarke herself flew through it. She elbowed her way past them, tripping into the bathroom and slamming the door behind her. Moments later, she was puking her guts out.

Bellamy cringed and Abby took a step back, eyes wide. 

A moment later, the toilet flushed. 

“Dammit, Bellamy,” Clarke opened the door, wiping her mouth with a washcloth, “Why did you let Raven convince me to take shots- Mom?”

The washcloth fell to the floor.

Crossing her arms and giving her daughter a blatantly disappointed look, Abby said, “It’s good to see you’ve been making smart choices, Clarke.”

A pause. 

"What are you doing here?" Clarke said in a tone Bellamy had never heard before. Her voice dripped with loathing. 

"I got a call from Thelonius. He was worried about you after you left his house yesterday. And since you're not taking any of my calls..."

"You asked Marcus for Bellamy's address," Clarke deducted and Abby nodded sharply.

"I wouldn't have had to go to such measures if you would just talk to me. You've been playing this game for far too long, Clarke. You're too old to be so childish. It's time you come home."

Clarke's eyes darkened and Bellamy could almost see the storm behind them. 

"I'm not playing a game, mom. You kicked me out and I figured out how to live without you. I don't answer your calls because I don't want to listen to you try to manipulate me into thinking this is my fault. That I somehow  _chose_ to leave." 

"This is just ridiculous, Clarke," Abby rolled her eyes and pointed towards the living room. "This is honestly how you want to live? In this revolting place?"

"I like it here. I like living with Bellamy. And I like not having to be around you."

A flash of hurt crossed Abby's face, but was quickly replaced with anger. 

"Fine. But you're going to realize that you need me one day, Clarke. You better hope you haven't burned all your bridges when you do."

"Get. Out," Clarke growled. 

Abby turned on her heel to leave, but paused at the end of the hallway. "Should I expect to see you at the hospital's gala?"

"I'm required to be there."

"Alright."

Abby gave Bellamy one last glance, then left, her heels clicking the entire way out. 

"Shit, Clarke. I didn't mean to let her in. I was still half asleep," Bellamy apologized.

"It's fine," Clarke muttered, raising a hand to cover her mouth. She ran back into the bathroom, keeling over the toilet again. Trying to offer her some privacy, Bellamy shut the door and went to the kitchen to make coffee and pour a glass of water. Clarke was going to need both to get through the morning. Plus, Bellamy didn't feel like having his head ripped off the day after Christmas by a grumpy and hungover Clarke. 


	12. Chapter 12

 Clarke thrashed about the apartment the rest of the morning, muttering to herself and being a tad too aggressive with the kitchen utensils. After going through an entire pot of coffee, Clarke stomped to her room, rummaged through the closet for a few minutes, and emerged with an armful of art supplies. She dumped them unceremoniously on the living room floor and Bellamy opened his mouth to complain, but she shot him a warning look and he clicked his mouth shut. 

Bellamy set himself up at the kitchen table with a new book, since apparently the living room was off limits today.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bellamy watched Clarke lean over a large canvas and being angrily scratching at it- her hand movements quick and harsh. She threw the pencil to the side and reached for a bottle of yellow paint and a paintbrush. She dumped a glob of paint onto the canvas, not even bothering to use a tray, and began brushing it in.

Bellamy shook his head and returned to his book. He’d only made it ten pages in.

“Why aren’t you reading the book I gave you?”

Her voice was so gravely, he wasn’t sure she’d really spoken.

“Clarke, you know I can’t accept that, right?”

A strand of paint covered hair slapped Clarke in the cheek, leaving a big red mark, as she popped her head up.

“What? Why not?”

He closed his book, marking the page. Reading right now was fruitless anyways.

“It’s too much. I don’t know how you even found a first edition, but-” Bellamy shook his head, “It’s way too much, Clarke.”

She chewed her lip, studying him over the top of the couch.

“I know how much you like that mythology stuff. I want you to have it.”

“Clarke, I looked up how much that copy is worth. _It’s too much_.”

“I didn’t buy it.”

“Oh, so you stole a thousand dollar book and re-gifted it?” he snarked and her eyes narrowed.

“If you don’t want it, just fucking say so, Bellamy.”

Bellamy pushed away from the table, striding forward until his pelvis was pressing into the back of the couch, looking down at her on the floor.

“Not _want_ it? That’s my favorite book in the whole fucking world, Clarke. And you somehow found a first edition translation! Of course I want it. It’s the best present anyone has ever given me. But its way too expensive and I can’t believe you got me something so… fucking awesome.”

Clarke glanced down at her canvas. It was a sea of red, oranges, and yellows. Not yet a picture, but the start of something beautiful.

“It was Wells’.”

“What?”

“The book. It was Wells’. His mother bought it so she could read it to him when he was a baby, but she died giving birth. Wells refused to even touch it.” Clarke’s sad eyes lifted. “I saw it when I went to New Jersey and thought of you. Thelonius said I could have it, that Wells would want me to have it.” 

Quiet tears slipped down her cheeks and she quickly swiped them away. Bellamy didn't know what to say. 

“Wells would have liked you,” a smirk crept onto her mouth, “He always liked people that could push my buttons.”

“… Are you sure?”

“Take the fucking book, Bellamy, or I’ll give it to Murphy to sell to one of those sketchy backdoor dealers at the Ark.”

“Don’t you dare.” 

“Your choice,” she singsonged and Bellamy relented.

“Fine.” 

“See, was that so hard?”

Harder than she knew. He'd never owned anything that expensive and never expected to. 

Bellamy rolled his eyes. “Just so you know, I’m not reading it out here. Or letting you anywhere near it.”

“Why not?” Clarke asked, offended.

“You’re slinging paint around like a two year old.” 

The paint all over her clothes and the living room rug made it impossible for Clarke to argue. 

“Rude.”

Bellamy lifted his shoulders. “You’re a menace today, Griffin. I don’t trust you around any of my belongings.”

Clarke lifted a paintbrush threateningly and Bellamy backed away with his hands raised. 

“Easy there, Princess.”

A wicked gleam lit in Clarke’s eye and Bellamy knew he’d said the wrong thing. 

In the blink of an eye, she vaulted over the couch, paintbrush in tow, and chased after him. Bellamy tried to get away, but he hadn’t expected Clarke to go _over_ the couch. She launched her self on his back and Bellamy cried out, stumbling to keep his balance. 

“Ahhh!”

Her arms came around his neck and the brush slapped him right in the nose, paint splattering all over his face.

There was a second of silence, where Bellamy wondered if she had really just done that.

But then she giggled, “Whoops,” and Bellamy knew this was war.

He tried to fling her off, but Clarke just continued slopping the paint onto his head.

“Clarke! Not my hair! Hey! Ugh! Dammit!” he cried and stumbled into the kitchen. Clarke latched her legs around his waist to keep from getting bucked off as she cackled uncontrollably.

“Don’t worry, it washes out,” she said with glee and rubbed more paint into his curls.

“Oh yeah?” Bellamy said darkly.

They had reached the sink and Clarke stiffened when she realized what he was about to do.

"Don't you dare," she warned.

Bellamy yanked the hose up from the sink and turned the water on full blast. He aimed it into his hair, getting Clarke sprayed in the process.

“Hey!” she cried, but Bellamy just adjusted the spout so that it hit her directly in the face. 

“You said it washes out!” 

“That’s not fair!” she yelled, trying to turn her head away, but Bellamy was merciless and the water sprayed her right in the mouth. She had no choice but to bury her head into his shoulder and slap helplessly at his chest. 

The onslaught halted for a moment.

“Had enough, Princess?” 

Clarke could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Never!” she shouted into his ear, raising her head and then dropping it almost immediately to avoid the blast coming her way.

It was no surprise neither of them heard the door open.

“What the hell?”

The water stopped. Bellamy turned towards the door, Clarke still latched onto his back and head hidden in his shoulder blade.

Raven and Octavia stood in the foyer, eyebrows high at the scene in front of them.

Clarke peeked her head up- afraid this was just a trick. When she saw Raven and Octavia, she squeaked and let go of Bellamy, her feet splashing in the water on the ground.

“I’m not sure I even want to know,” Octavia said.

“I do,” Raven said.

Bellamy coughed, embarrassed, and Clarke took a few steps out from behind him. 

“Clarke, uh, Clarke put paint in my hair and I, uh-” Bellamy started.

Raven glanced at Clarke, who was trying very hard to straighten her wet hair and pull down the oversized shirt she was wearing.

She caught Raven watching and crossed her arms defensively. “It’s our apartment, we can do what we want.”

That didn’t come out right and Clarke cringed. Octavia just snorted and Bellamy face-palmed.

“What are you guys doing here, anyway?” Clarke snapped.

Raven lifted up a packaged, wrapped in gold and red ribbon.

“We didn’t get a chance to give you your present last night.”

“Oh,” Clarke said dumbly. “Let me just go change real quick.” 

“Right,” Bellamy said awkwardly, heading for his own bedroom. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone for lunch.”

The bedroom doors clicked shut and Octavia and Raven shared a look.

“Do they expect us to clean up this mess?” Octavia said. There were puddles of water all over the kitchen and green paint splattered on the walls. 

Raven slid onto a dry part of the counter.

“No way. It’s fun watching them try and explain how it happened. Imagine watching them clean it up.”


	13. Chapter 13

Clarke was working mornings this week, which meant she got off around four, took a nap, ate dinner, and then went to the Ark. 

She’d already done the first two today. 

“Bellamy?” she called, not wanting to knock on his door. Echo could be over. 

Apparently, Bellamy had called Echo and apologized for making her leave that night. He explained everything that happened with Charlotte, and Echo had been pretty understanding about the whole thing. In fact, they’d gone on a few dates and she’d been spending almost every night in Bellamy’s bed.

“In here,” he called and Clarke took that as permission. 

Bellamy was spread out on his bed, shirtless, and reading a book when Clarke poked her head in.

“I’m meeting everyone for drinks, you wanna come?”

Bellamy peered up at her from behind his glasses. “You’ve asked me the same question for the past four days. What’s going to make today any different?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. God, Bellamy could be such an old man sometimes.

“Because, tonight, I’ll buy you a beer.”

It was the same offer she’d made the last few nights too.

“Alright, fine.” Bellamy rolled off the bed and Clarke grinned. She knew she’d wear him down eventually.

He emerged wearing a green t-shirt and dark wash jeans. Clarke tried not to look at the way his arm muscles bulged against the cotton or how he was still wearing his glasses. They gave Bellamy a sort of charm- charm he didn’t need on top of his already good looks.

“You ready?” Bellamy asked, raising a brow. Clarke had just been standing there, staring. 

“Uh, yeah. Let me just grab my purse.” 

Jasper and Monty already had a booth when they got there. Murphy was behind the bar, serving drinks and Bellamy veered off towards him. It was busy tonight, more busy than usual and the whole place was pretty much packed. 

“Here you go, Clarke!” Monty slid a drink across the table before she was even fully seated.

“Thanks. Didn’t realize I was getting five star service tonight.”

She tried to get Bellamy’s attention and tell him he didn’t need to get her a drink, but his back was turned.

“Well, you’re probably going to need it,” Jasper muttered and Monty elbowed him in the side.

Clarke paused, the drink halfway to her lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Just then, Bellamy set two glasses of beer down, frowning at the fruity drink Clarke was holding in her hand. Clarke shrugged, grabbing for the second drink anyways. Free booze was free booze.

“Finn is coming tonight.” 

The beer glass Clarke was dragging towards her caught on a dip in the table and fell.

“Shit!” she cried, standing and trying to avoid getting it all over her clothes. The guys rushed to pile napkins on the table, while Clarke moved her phone and purse out of the way. 

“Fuck, sorry,” she muttered.

“Don’t worry about it, Clarke,” Monty said.

“Did you start drinking without us already?” Jasper joked, slapping the wet napkins around unhelpfully. 

“Now you owe me two drinks,” Bellamy said dryly and Clarke opened her mouth to snap back, but froze when she saw who was walking in the door.

Why was she even caught off guard? Jasper had just told her Finn was coming. Still, seeing him made her want to throw up… or maybe just throw something.

Raven trailed in behind Finn, and behind them was Octavia and Lincoln.

Clarke was still drying the table as they approached.

“Hey guys,” Raven greeted and shouldered off her coat.

“Hey, Reeves!” Jasper smiled.

“Bellamy, this is Finn.”

“Hey, man,” Bellamy stuck out a hand and Finn reached forward to take it.

“Nice to meet you.” 

Clarke collected all the soaked napkins and slid out of the booth, brushing past them without a word.

She dumped them in the trashcan with a disgusted sound. Now her hands would smell like beer all night.

“You didn’t answer my calls,” Raven said and Clarke jumped. She hadn’t realized the other girl had followed her from the booth.

“I was napping.”

“I texted you too,” Raven said.

“It’s fine, Raven. I’ve just been staying away from my phone since my mom showed up. She’s been calling incessantly.”

“If you want me to tell him to leave, I will.” 

For the first time, Clarke met Raven’s eyes. The truth was written all over her face. Raven would send Finn away right now if Clarke wanted her too. Clarke debated it, she really did. But Finn was Raven’s family, even after everything that happened. Clarke would just have to suck it up and deal with him for one night.

“No, Ray. It’s fine. Just caught me by surprise is all.”

“You sure?” Raven asked honestly.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m going to go clean up, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Raven nodded and Clarke veered off towards the restroom.

When she came back, the booth was full except for one seat on the end, next to Lincoln. Finn and Raven had taken her previous spot next to Monty. Bellamy was between Jasper and Octavia and next to Octavia was Lincoln. Jackson and Miller had shown up and were standing on the edge of the table.

As if reading Clarke’s mind, Bellamy slid the fruity drink across the table into her hand. She shot him a grateful smile and turned to Lincoln, asking about his newest photography exhibit. The longer they talked, the harder she had to ignore the way Finn was staring.

When she looked up, he jerked his head away. God, she didn’t have the energy for this tonight.

“So, Bellamy, you’re Octavia’s brother right?” Finn asked.

“Unfortunately.”

“You love me and you know it,” Octavia said, ruffling her brother’s hair as Bellamy hid a grin. Of course he did.

“Raven says you’re a middle school history teacher? What’s that like? Those kids have got to be a handful.”

Bellamy shrugged. “I love the kids, it’s the parents that are shitty.”

“Plus, history? That’s kind of an irrelevant class now that we have the Internet, right?”

 _Oh, you idiot,_ Clarke thought.

Bellamy didn’t answer for a moment, but his jaw was ticking slightly- a sign of his temper flaring. 

“History is more relevant today than ever. We have to study the past to make sure we don’t make the same mistakes in the future.”

“Yeah, but history always repeats itself. Why teach it, if its not going to change anything anyways?”

Clarke glanced between the two dark haired men warily, not even bothering to pretend she wasn’t listening. Everyone at the table seemed to sense the tension and their other conversations tapered out. 

“Do you actually know anything about history or are you just naïve enough to really believe that?” Bellamy asked, anger making his forehead sweat.

Finn looked offended. If there was one thing he hated, it was being wrong. 

“I know plenty about history. I got A’s in every single one of my history classes in high school and college.”

Bellamy snorted, taking a drink and shifting his shoulders. “Great, you can list off the state capitals to me later.”

Never would Clarke have imagined Bellamy being downright cocky about his history knowledge and it actually working to piss Finn off. It was pretty awesome to watch. Finn wasn’t used to people not liking him and he loved to make a great first impression. But Bellamy Blake wasn’t one to be schmoozed. 

As usual, Raven came to the rescue with a quick topic change.

“Clarke, what are you doing this weekend? Octavia and I were talking about maybe going to that new outlet in Richmond.”

Clarke groaned. “I have to go to that stupid gala at the hospital.”

“Ohhh, have you gotten a dress yet?” Octavia perked up.

“No, I’m just going to wear one of my old ones.”

“Booo,” Raven said, “Clarke, you’re a snack, but you’re not going to get yourself a hot doctor- or nurse- if you don’t try a little bit.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t want a hot doctor or nurse,” Clarke muttered.

“Lame. Are you at least bringing someone?” Octavia pried and Lincoln shook his head, giving Clarke a sympathetic look. Octavia was like a dog with a bone when it came to this kind of stuff.

“And have my mom interrogate them into leaving? I don’t think so.” 

“Take, Bell,” Octavia suggested. “He will complain all night and you two can have a horrible time together!”

“Uh, hell no,” Bellamy said and Clarke snorted.

She’d already thought of asking Bellamy to go with her, but now Echo was in the picture. Clarke didn’t know if Echo was the jealous type and didn’t want to risk Bellamy losing another chance with her. Besides, Octavia was right. They would end up feeding off each other’s miserableness all night.

“I’ll go with you,” Finn suggested.

The table quieted once more.

“ _What_?” Clarke and Raven said at the same time. 

“I said I’ll go with you. You know, as friends. Your mom already likes me,” Finn shrugged, “I wouldn’t mind.”

Clarke couldn’t control her jaw from dropping. “You’re kidding, right?”

Finn glanced around the table, finding all eyes on him.

“No, I’m not.”

“Why would I want to go with you?” Clarke said harshly, making Finn flinch.

“Look, I’m trying here, Clarke. I’d like to be your friend. What more do you want from me?”

No way was he actually saying this shit.

“What more do I want from you? I want you to leave me the fuck alone," Clarke snapped.

“Clarke,” Raven warned lowly, not wanting to be put in the middle of this fight. Finn and Clarke were both important to her.

“Jesus, Clarke. I was just trying to be nice. You don’t have to be such a bit- you don’t have to be so rude about it.”

Up until that point, everyone had been keeping their comments to themselves.

There was a coughing sound as someone choked on their drink and then the crack of a glass being set on the table too hard. 

“ _What did you just call her_?” an impossibly low voice said. 

Finn seemed to shrink under Bellamy's intense gaze.

“I just said she didn’t have to be rude about it,” he stuttered.

It didn’t matter that Finn had covered for himself. Everyone at the table knew what he intended to say.

“Don’t worry, he’s called me worse,” Clarke said. 

Bellamy glanced at Clarke for only a second, nostrils flaring, before returning his gaze to Finn.

Clarke had freaked out when Finn walked in, but Bellamy thought nothing of it. Then, Finn couldn’t keep his eyes off her, and Bellamy started to get more suspicious. Obviously, there was something between them. Maybe a crush? Or maybe they were exes?

But, no. It had become pretty clear that whatever history Clarke and Finn had, it wasn’t good.

“Want to explain to me what she’s talking about?” Bellamy asked darkly.

It didn’t matter that Clarke usually annoyed the ever-living shit out of him; Bellamy would never disrespect her by calling her a name. His mother had taught him better. The thought of someone saying those things to Octavia made his body fill with white-hot rage. 

Finn opened his mouth, but Clarke cut in.

“Don’t worry about it, Bellamy,” she gave Finn a sweet smile, “We’re past it. Anyone need a refill?” 

“I could use one,” Octavia said, sliding over Lincoln’s lap to join Clarke and having to jog a few steps when Clarke didn't wait. 

The glass almost broke as Clarke slammed it down on the bar.

“You break it, you buy it,” Murphy said.

She didn’t reply and Murphy just raised his eyebrows, taking Octavia's empty glass too. 

“I think Bellamy is going to kill Finn if we don’t get back there soon,” Octavia whispered and Clarke glanced over her shoulder.

Bellamy had his hands in fists on the table, openly glaring at Finn and working his jaw. The other man was trying really hard not to make eye contact or fidget, as everyone else talked around him. 

Murphy reappeared with two fresh drinks. 

“What’s gotten into Blake?” he nodded towards the booth, also noticing the murder in Bellamy’s eyes. 

“Finn said some shit to Clarke and Bellamy went into overprotective older brother mode,” Octavia explained.

Murphy gave Clarke an unreadable look as he wiped a rag along the bar top, accidentally slopping liquid all over his already dirty shirt. 

Suddenly, an idea popped into Clarke’s head.

“Hey, Murphy, what are you doing next weekend?”

“Working. Why?”

“Want to make a hundred bucks?”

Murphy narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“What do I have to do?”

Clarke grinned. “Get dressed up, go to a party with me, pretend you’re my boyfriend and watch my mom’s head explode.”

Oh god, it would be glorious seeing Abby's reaction to Murphy _. A bartender, Clarke, really? His hair’s not even combed!_  

Octavia grabbed Clarke’s upper arm. “That is a monumentally stupid idea.”

“C’mon, Murphy. It’ll be fun,” Clarke said, ignoring Octavia. Of course it was a stupid idea, but that didn't mean it wasn’t a good one.

Murphy was chewing his lip.

“Why me? Why not just take Bellamy?”

“Because Bellamy is actually good around new people and I need to bring someone who my mom is going to hate. You don’t even have to get dressed up if you don’t want.”

 An evil glint wedged itself in Murphy’s eye. He loved causing trouble. That, plus free food and free alcohol, sounded like an almost perfect night.

“Two hundred,” Murphy eventually said. “And no PDA.” 

“Deal,” Clarke smirked and stuck out her hand. He took it. 

Octavia dropped her head into her palm, muttering something about them both being idiots.

Clarke just smiled. Now all she needed was the right dress. 

Good thing the event was being held at a hospital, because Abby Griffin was going to have a heart attack when she saw her daughter’s date.


	14. Chapter 14

“Uh, Murphy, can I also get a pint of whatever stout you have on tap?” Clarke asked, sliding her card over. Octavia had already returned to the booth, worried Bellamy was going to do something reckless. 

“You once told me that if your beer was too dark you might as well be drinking coffee.”

Clarke smiled, pleased that he had remembered that. 

“It’s not for me.”

Murphy smirked. “Bellamy likes the IPA we have.”

“Alright, a pint of that then and maybe a basket of fries.”

Murphy chuckled, filling the glass and putting in the order.

“What did the floppy haired kid say to you anyway?” 

“He was about to call me a bitch, but stopped himself.”

“Ah,” Murphy’s eyes widened, looking over her shoulder at the booth, “That’ll do it.”

“Yup,” Clarke popped the ‘p’.

“I’ll bring your fries over when they’re ready,” Murphy said, turning towards another customer.  

“Thanks. And don’t forget, Saturday night, meet at my place at seven!” 

“There better be good drinks! None of that fancy martini shit!” he called over his shoulder.

When Clarke came back, she decided not to sit back down. Instead, standing next to Jackson and Miller. Bellamy noticed her return and she slid the beer across the table. 

“Now I only owe you one,” she mouthed and a smile played at his lips.

An hour or so later, Clarke announced that she was leaving. Bellamy hadn’t said anything for a good fifteen minutes and Clarke assumed he was ready to go too. Finn mumbled something about going to the bathroom and slunk off as everyone said their goodbyes.

They had walked to the Ark, not wanting to pay for an Uber or cab if the drinking got a little too out of hand. The weather was getting a little warmer, though they both still wore jackets and Bellamy had to shove his hands into his jean pockets.

It was a few blocks in before either of them spoke. 

“I don’t like him.”

Clarke snorted. “Neither do I.”

“Was he your- how do, how do you know him?”

Bellamy couldn’t figure out the right way to ask what he wanted to know.

“We dated a few years back. Only for like six months.”

That’s what he had suspected, even though the thought of Clarke and Finn together made him sick for some reason. 

“What happened? I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want. I just…” 

Clarke took a deep breath. “I was over at his apartment one day and this girl knocked on the door. She said she was his girlfriend, home early after being gone for a year.” 

Bellamy’s footsteps faltered. “You’re kidding.”

They were only a few blocks from home now- out of downtown and in a residential area. Clarke turned to face him. The moon was big enough tonight she could see his freckles, even the ones hiding behind his glasses. 

“No, I’m not. They had been together for six years and she’d been away for a year in Europe. She’d gotten a flight home early to surprise him.” 

“What a fucking dick. God, I wanted to punch him when he called you a-” Bellamy cleared his throat and Clarke smiled softly. He wouldn’t even allow himself to repeat it. “But now I want to go back in there and beat the shit out of him for doing that to you.”

The cold wind was making her nose run and Clarke moved back and forth on the balls of her feet, trying to ignore it. 

“You haven’t even heard the best part.” 

“What did he do?” 

Clarke shivered. Whether from the emotion in Bellamy’s voice or the cold air, she couldn’t tell.

“After we both realized we didn’t know the other existed, the girl and I went out for drinks. We both dumped Finn and became best friends.” 

It took a moment for him to put the pieces together. 

“ _Raven_?” Bellamy’s eyes widened. 

“Uh huh. She didn’t talk to Finn for a whole year, but now they are friends again. Sort of. They grew up together and had to lean on each other a lot as kids. They’re family and I don’t blame her for still having a relationship with him.”

“Jesus, Clarke,” Bellamy ran a hand through his hair, “You’re life is like a fucking TV show.”

It was getting too cold just standing there and Clarke started walking again. Bellamy was only one step behind.

“Anyway, thanks for tonight,” she said.

He glanced down, but her chin was tucked into the neck of her jacket, hiding her expression.

“I didn’t even do anything, Clarke.”

“You stood up for me. Not that I can’t do it myself. It’s just nice to know that you… care.”

Bellamy didn’t say anything for a moment and they turned a corner, the apartment coming into view.

“I’d stand up for any of my friends against an asshole like that,” Bellamy said. Clarke flicked her eyes to him, not expecting him to already be looking at her.

“You’ve never called me that before.” 

“What?”

“Your friend. But I guess that’s what we are, huh?” Clarke chuckled, “Didn’t start out that way.”

Bellamy smirked. “You’re still a princess.”

“And you still have a stick up your ass.”

 

 

It was almost one in the morning when Clarke got home from her shift, so she tried to be quiet entering the apartment.

“Hey.”

Clarke nearly dropped her keys. Startled, she glanced up, finding Bellamy and Echo on the couch. An action movie was playing, but the volume was low.

“I didn’t think you’d be awake,” Clarke said, trying to compose herself. God, he’d scared the shit out of her. “Hey, Echo.”

“Hey.” 

Clarke perused the contents of the refrigerator, finally deciding to just make microwave nachos.

“Rough night?” Bellamy asked, leaning his head back towards the kitchen to keep Clarke in view.

It had been a terrible night. A house fire, with only two survivors out of a family of five. The smell of burnt flesh would probably haunt her for months. 

But how could Bellamy tell she’d had a bad shift?

“Yeah, worse than most.”

The microwave beeped and Clarke retrieved her plate of cheesy chips, trying not to let the smell of cooking food make her gag.

“Want to talk about it?” Bellamy asked, his brow creasing with worry.

Yeah, she really did. But it was late and Clarke didn’t want to irrupt their night.

Her eyes flicked to Echo, who was fully engrossed in the movie and not paying attention to anything else. Bellamy tracked the glance, noting Clarke’s hesitation.

The memory of Clarke, sitting on the couch in a puddle of Charlotte’s blood resurfaced in his mind and his worry only grew. Eventually, Clarke sighed. 

“Not tonight,” she said and padded off to bed.

 Bellamy watched her go.

“This is my favorite part,” Echo whispered, wrapping her arm around his waist. Bellamy turned his attention back to the screen, trying to remind himself that Clarke would be fine. She could take care of herself.

 

* * *

 

The Gala night snuck up on her. She'd been running around frantically at work, going dress shopping with Octavia, and still trying to dodge her mom's calls. 

"Clarke, are you ready?!" Murphy shouted from the kitchen. 

There was a muffled noise and a curse from the bedroom. 

"Want a beer?" Bellamy chuckled.

"Might as well." 

Murphy followed Bellamy to the kitchen table and sat, tapping his foot impatiently and sipping. 

Fifteen minutes later, Clarke's door opened. The two men looked up as she entered.

"Damn, Griffin," Murphy whistled. "Maybe I spoke too soon about the no PDA thing."

Clarke snorted. "Don't even think about it." 

She leaned down to fix her shoe, pausing when she caught Bellamy's eye. His face was abnormally pale, jaw loose and eyes wide. 

"What?"

He cleared his throat, blinking rapidly. 

"Uh, nothing. You look... good." 

Clarke straightened. 

After trying on at least ten dresses, she'd found the perfect one. It was dark blue, tight, had a slit up the side, and made her boobs look great. Octavia had come over earlier to do her hair and makeup. All things considered, Clarke knew she looked pretty hot. 

What was unsettling, was the way Bellamy was staring at her. Almost like he was checking her out. No way. He'd just never seen her out of scrubs or sweatpants before. That was all. 

Right?

"Thanks," Clarke said and adjusted the dress strap. Bellamy tracked the motion with his eyes. 

"Alright, we're already late," Murphy snapped, tired of watching their weird eye dance. "Let's go."

"Have a good night," Bellamy said dull, his mind obviously on something else. 

"Yeah, yeah," Murphy called and pushed Clarke out the door. "Go take a cold shower."

An hour later, Bellamy did exactly that. The freezing water managed to snap him out of whatever state he was in.

What had gotten in to him? It was like he'd never seen a girl in a dress before. Well, he'd never seen Clarke in a dress before, but why did that matter? She was just Clarke. Annoying, bull-headed, pain in his ass Clarke.

He switched on the TV, finding the history channel and grabbing his phone to order takeout. 

Three missed calls.

Ten unread text messages. 

All from 'John Murphy'.

He clicked on the messages icon. 

> _Hey man, maybe you should throw on a suit and get down to this stupid Gala thing._
> 
> _The sooner the better._
> 
> _Clarke's about to lose it._
> 
> _Like, right now._
> 
> _Dude_
> 
> _This is not good._
> 
> _Bellamy, seriously._
> 
> _She is going to kill somebody if you don't get your ass to the hospital right now_

Bellamy clicked out of the messages and ran to his closet, throwing on the nearest thing he could find. What on Earth could be happening that Bellamy needed to get to the hospital so urgently? Something was happening with Clarke. Abby maybe? Kane? Fuck, was Finn there?

He spent the ten minute car ride thinking of the worst possibilities. 

 


	15. Chapter 15

Rewind.

Clarke never rode the elevator, having had nightmares about its rickety sounds and sudden drops, but tonight there was no way she could walk down six flights of stairs without breaking an ankle.

“I’m hurt, Griffin. I got all dressed up for you and you didn’t even comment on my suit,” Murphy whined, pushing the elevator call button. 

Clarke’s mind was still on the way Bellamy had been gaping, but she took the opportunity to look at Murphy’s outfit. It wasn’t a suit, not even close. He was wearing a plain black long sleeve shirt under a dress jacket and black jeans. His shoes were black sneakers, but they were at least clean and his hair was styled.

The elevator dinged as it arrived.

“You look like someone who doesn’t own a suit, but is trying to look nice anyway.”

“Clarke, that’s literally what happened.”

They got in the elevator and she chuckled.

“It’s perfect. We can’t make it too obvious that you’re not my real date. At least this way, it looks like you tried your best.”

Murphy smiled, pleased with himself. That’s what he’d been going for.

“I’ll drive,” he said when they reached the lobby. Clarke didn’t argue. She’d have to take her heels off to use the pedals anyway. 

Murphy turned the music in the car down. “So, what’s the plan for tonight?”

“Drink a little too much, eat with your fingers, say rude things at the wrong time. Be yourself,” she shrugged.

“You wound me,” Murphy put a hand over his heart dramatically, but he wore a revealing sly grin.

“I’ll be the doting girlfriend- defending you to my mother and all her hoity toity friends.”

“Sounds like a plan.” 

The hospital came into view and Clarke directed him to the parking garage. They had to go up to the top level to find a parking spot. Luckily, Murphy’s little beat up Subaru could fit almost anywhere. 

“Oh, one more thing,” Clarke said as she wormed her way out of the car, careful to not catch her dress on the dirty door, or worse, rip the tight fabric.

“Yes, Princess?”

Clarke shot him a look over the top of the car. “Don’t you start that too.”

“Fine, I’ll leave the pet names to Bellamy,” Murphy chuckled and Clarke was tempted to smack him with her clutch.

“You don’t have to be a total dick to everyone you meet tonight.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Clarke had a funny look in her eye. 

“It means that there’s someone I want you to meet and if you’re a pig, she’ll probably punch you in the face.”

“You’re not seriously trying to set me up with someone tonight, are you? I’m supposed to be pretending to be your boyfriend!”

“Does that sound like something I would do?” Clarke asked innocently. 

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” she smiled, knowing the truth.

“Whatever,” Murphy huffed and then jerked when something grabbed his hand.

“What are you doing?”

He tried to pull his arm back, but Clarke’s grip was like a vice. 

“It’s showtime,” she muttered, dragging him through the big glass doors and into the sea of people.

First stop, the bar. They both got drinks before Clarke starting introducing Murphy to some of her coworkers. He was short with them and disinterested, but that was to be expected. Clarke acted clueless to his rudeness, smiling and flirting with him through it all.

Lexa sneered a little when Clarke introduced him as her boyfriend. Which was interesting, considering they’d only slept together a few times and Lexa had gotten back together with her ex. Maybe Lexa could tell they weren’t really together. Either way, Clarke didn’t think too much into it.

Murphy seemed to be having a great time if his numerous trips to the bar and buffet were any indication. He even seemed to be enjoying the band that was playing.

“So does your mom like own this hospital or something?” Murphy asked behind a mouthful of food.

“She used to be Chief of Surgery. Tonight, she’s just the guest speaker.” 

“Gross, we have to listen to her talk?”

Clarke smirked. “You’ve never even met my mom.”

“I’ve heard the stories,” he shoved another kabob into his mouth and Clarke raised her eyebrows, wondering exactly what stories Murphy had heard.

Something over Murphy’s shoulder caught Clarke’s eye.

“Well, speak of the devil,” she muttered and chugged the rest of her drink.

Murphy turned. The woman that approached looked nothing like he imagined. She was small and lean, with long brunette hair and sharp features. Where Clarke was soft edges, Abby was hard lines.

“Clarke, sweetie, you look wonderful tonight.” Abby reached forward, clasping Clarke’s stiff shoulders to kiss her cheek.

“Thanks, mom. So do you. Marcus,” Clarke nodded to the man at Abby’s side.

“Good to see you again, Clarke.”

Well, there was no reason to beat around the bush, was there?

“Just wondering, do you give out all your staff’s confidential information?” Clarke asked nonchalantly, satisfied when Kane’s face paled.

“It was an emergency.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, not even bothering to look at Abby as she spoke, “My mom may have made it seem like an emergency, but thanks to you, she can now barge back into my life anytime she feels like it.” 

“That wasn’t my intention,” Kane said, his voice a mixture of shame and denial.

Sure, Clarke was mad Kane had given her mother Bellamy’s address, but deep down she knew Abby had made him do it. It was an invasion of privacy, but Abby knew no limits when it came to getting what she wanted. Kane was just another pawn in her manipulations.

“This is ridiculous, Clarke. A mother has the right to know where her daughter is living,” Abby said, shrill. 

“Not if her daughter doesn’t want her to know where she’s living,” Murphy said. For the first time, Abby and Kane realized he was there.

“Who are you?” Abby demanded, looking Murphy up and down. Her eyes stopped on the black jeans he was wearing, then moved slowly down to his less than formal shoes.

“John Murphy,” he reached out a hand, but not before rubbing the leftover barbecue sauce on his shirt.

If it was possible, Abby’s face contorted more. Kane stepped forward to shake his hand, but Abby seemed stuck in place.

“John is my boyfriend.” Clarke slid her arm into his and smiled, big and bright.

Abby glanced between them, disbelieving. “I know you’re not serious, Clarke.”

“What do you mean, mom?” Clarke rested her head on Murphy’s shoulder and he played into it, wrapping his arm around her back. 

“You’re doing this on purpose.” 

“Doing what?” Clarke asked, feigning genuine confusion.

“Bringing him,” Abby said, trying not to sound as disgusted as she was. The boy wasn’t even wearing a tie for god sakes. He looked like he was on the way to the club, or had just gotten off a shift working at one.

“If you’re insulting John about the way he looks, I’ll have you know that he works very hard every night to afford what he can. He wasn’t born into money and you don’t get to look down on him for that,” Clarke said fiercely.

“I don’t think you’re mother was trying to be insensitive, Clarke,” Kane tried to reason.

Clarke leveled her gaze on Abby. “And yet, she was.”

“I wasn’t the one that brought up money, Clarke. You did that,” Abby said.

“It was implied.” 

A few seconds passed.

“My apologizes,” Abby said, inclining her head at Murphy, who just narrowed his eyes. “So, how did you two meet?”

Shit, they hadn’t really come up with a backstory. They both floundered and Murphy started grunting something inaudible before Clarke cut in. 

“John is Bellamy’s friend. We got close after his accident.”

Murphy’s arm tightened a bit, but Clarke couldn’t interpret what it meant. Did he approve of the lie? Maybe he thought it was shitty? Maybe he was just reliving the traumatic night. 

“So, he was your patient?” Abby asked, her eyebrows high. Patient doctor relationships were frowned upon. 

“Yep,” Murphy said, “Clarke saved my life and we just sort of… got closer from there.”

Needing to the sell the moment, Clarke leaned up and kissed Murphy’s cheek sweetly.

When she glanced back at her mom and Kane, Clarke was pleased to see it had worked. Abby’s face was a mix of surprise and horror and Kane was glancing at Abby warily. 

“Do you know how much trouble you could get in for this, Clarke? This is one of the most irresponsible things you’ve ever done and I cannot believe-”

“Chill, mom. He’s not my patient anymore,” Clarke said sassily. 

Abby sputtered and Kane tried to reassure her. “I’m sure it’s fine, sweetheart. Clarke is an adult and they seem happy.”

“Happy?” Abby’s eyes widened. “I don’t care about Clarke being _happy._  She could lose her job over this!”

If that wasn’t the most telling thing Abby had ever said, Clarke didn’t know what was. The sad part was, Abby didn’t even see the tragedy in her own statement.

“Someone’s looking for you, mom,” Clarke pointed to a woman that was frantically trying to get Abby’s attention from the stage. “Looks like it’s time for your speech.”

“Oh, right. We’ll speak about this after,” Abby gave her daughter a pointed look.

“It was nice meeting you, Dr. Griffin," Murphy said, "Now I know why Clarke’s so fucked up in the head."

The harsh words made Clarke flinch. What the hell Murphy? That was just mean. 

“Excuse me?” Abby asked, aghast.

“Clarke can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, but at least she’s not selfish. You’re so worried about what your daughter’s actions are going to do to _your_ reputation, that you don’t even give a fuck about your actual daughter. C’mon, Clarke.”

Abby was appalled, but she didn’t try to stop them as Murphy led Clarke away- her legs seemingly the only things that were working right now.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Clarke eventually whispered when they had reached the outskirts of the crowd of people. 

Murphy pulled his arm back, eyes not meeting hers. “Don’t mention it. So where’s this girl you wanted me to meet?”

Of course Murphy wasn’t going to talk about what just happened. God forbid he actually admit he cares about people other than himself. 

Clarke studied him for a minute and Murphy’s jaw tightened.

“Drop it, Griffin,” he growled. 

“Murphy, thank you.”

The sincerity in her voice forced him to actually look at her. They didn’t say anything, they didn’t really need to. Murphy understood Clarke. Clarke understood Murphy.

After a moment, they both cleared their throats. 

“She’s right over there,” Clarke pointed to a dark haired girl in a black dress. Murphy couldn’t see her face, but then she turned and he sucked in a breath.

“They let doctors have face tattoos?”

Clarke snorted, “Emori’s not a doctor. She’s a patient. Well, she was a patient.”

“Well, she’s hot,” Murphy admitted. "Totally my type."

“So, go talk to her.”

“What? I thought you were going to introduce us!" 

“I said there was someone I wanted you to meet. That’s her. So go meet her!” 

“You’re kidding, right?” Murphy grunted. He didn’t even know the girl. What if she came with someone and Murphy ended up getting punched for hitting on another dude’s girl. 

“No, I’m not. Now, grow a pair and go talk to her,” Clarke said and waved her hands at him to ‘ _go on_ ’. 

“This is so fucking stupid,” Murphy grumbled under his breath, dragging his feet as Clarke gave him a shove.

Ten minutes later, Murphy was ready to strangle Clarke. Why had she made him go talk to this girl in the first place? Emori was standoffish and rude and reminded Murphy way too much of himself for his liking. She didn’t want anything to do with him and had brushed him off after his multiple failed attempts to start a conversation.

He was going to kill Clarke when he found her.

It wasn’t hard to spot her. Clarke was still in the same place he had left her. Except now, she was staring intently at something else across the room. So intently that it looked like the wine glass in her grip was about to shatter. Murphy tracked Clarke’s line of sight and his heart stopped at the sight. 

Maybe Murphy wasn’t going to kill Clarke for making him talk to Emori. Maybe Clarke was going to kill someone else before he got the chance.

His own flare of rage ignited as the couple kissed. But Murphy was more worried about Clarke- even from across the room, he could see her face darken.

_Oh, shit. Oh shit, shit, shit. This was not good._

Clarke took a step forward, murder in her eyes, and Murphy bolted towards her. He’d seen Clarke scream at Bellamy. He’d been there when she’d thrown the wine bottle. Griffin had a temper and right now, she looked ready to unleash it on the two people making out on the dance floor.

 

* * *

  

Bellamy almost didn’t see Murphy sitting on the hospital steps as he took them two at a time. 

“It’s about time you showed up," Murphy stood, putting out his cigarette on the cement banister and tossing it to the bottom of the staircase. Under different circumstances, Bellamy would have scolded him for littering.

“What the hell is going on, Murphy? Where’s Clarke?”

“She went to the bathroom, thank god. I’ve been trying to talk her down all night.”

“Talk her down from what?” 

Murphy glanced towards the hospital atrium, where music and light was pouring out.

"Defending your honor. Or some stupid bullshit like that."

"Huh?"

“C’mon. You can see for yourself.” 

Bellamy continued to batter Murphy with questions, but the wiry man just kept telling him to wait. He’d rushed down here thinking there was some kind of emergency! He didn’t want to wait, he wanted answers. 

“Tickets please,” the woman at the door said, reaching her hand out.

“He’s with me,” Murphy grunted, grabbing Bellamy by the shirt collar and hauling him through the door, past the sputtering woman. They didn’t look back to see if she followed. 

The entire atrium was full of people, laughing, drinking, and dancing. There was a stage near the front of the room, with a podium and band playing. Bellamy glanced around for the restrooms, looking for a familiar blonde head of hair coming out.

“Oh shit,” Murphy said under his breath.

“What?” Bellamy asked, glancing around frantically.

Nothing caught his eye and Bellamy cursed. Why did Clarke have to be so damn short?

Bellamy was looking for blonde hair, but maybe he should’ve been looking for that blue dress, because when he spotted Clarke, he almost didn’t recognize her. Her front was to them, hair pulled back and chest heaving. She was red in the face, pointing a menacing finger at a very tall brunette couple.

Alarm bells rang in Bellamy’s mind as he watched Clarke take a step forward, jaw clenching and putting herself in the other woman’s face. Bellamy had only seen that look on Clarke once … right before she’d hurtled an entire bottle of wine at his head. 

“I fucking told her to wait,” Murphy growled.

Bellamy didn’t know what was going on, but right now Clarke was very angry and very worked up. And Murphy had called him to help. Not Raven, not Octavia. _Him_. Uncaring about the people clustered around, Bellamy pushed his way towards Clarke.

When he was only about a yard away, Bellamy reached out to snag her elbow.

“Clarke,” he breathed.

The unexpected contact had Clarke swiveling towards him, fists clenched. But she recognized the man holding her and froze.

“Bellamy?” she gasped.

“What’s going on?” He searched her face for tears, scratches, anything.

Panting, Murphy pushed his way through the last group of people and stumbled to Bellamy’s side.

“Bellamy? What are you doing here?” 

Bellamy blinked. The female voice sounded so familiar, but he was clearly staring at Clarke and she wasn’t the one who had spoken. 

For the first time, he looked at the couple Clarke had been addressing. It was his turn to freeze. The man was Roan, the doctor from the night of Murphy’s accident, and the woman was… 

“Echo?”

The brunette woman’s eyes were wider than he’d ever seen them and her jaw was opening and closing, like a fish.

Bellamy looked to Clarke for an explanation, but all the anger had drained from her features, replaced by sadness… or maybe sympathy.

“What’s going on?” Bellamy repeated, his voice not as strong as before.

“Bellamy, I’m so sorry,” Echo started. “I didn’t know it- I mean, I didn’t think it would happen like this.” 

Echo continued to ramble nonsense and Bellamy felt his body slowly going numb. She wasn’t saying anything he understood, but the message was there, hidden under her apologies. 

Something warm sidled up next to him and Bellamy didn’t have to look to know that it was Clarke, pressing her arm and shoulder reassuringly against his side.

Bellamy’s eyes drifted to Roan. He was angry, arms crossed, and sullen as he watched Echo spew her word vomit.

Having apparently heard enough, Clarke snapped.

“Why don’t you just fucking say it, Echo?”

The brunette glowered, but Clarke straightened her shoulders and returned the dangerous look. 

“Roan and I are together, Bellamy. We, we’ve been dating for a while. I’m so sorry.”

The blunt statement didn’t surprise him, not after her rambling apologies, but it did send a little shock wave through his spine.

Echo lowered her head in shame, but Clarke advanced angrily. “You’re still fucking lying. You’re not just together, you and Roan are fucking engaged!”

That made Bellamy jerk.

“Not anymore,” Roan said coldly as he strode off.

“Roan, wait!” Echo cried, following him with her hand outstretched. 

Murphy, Clarke and Bellamy were left standing in the middle of the room, watching Echo cling to Roan and beg him not to leave.

“You okay, man?” Murphy asked, jostling Bellamy’s shoulder a bit.

“Yeah, I mean, I guess so. I just don’t understand. I thought-”

“Bellamy, look at me,” Clarke grabbed his forearm. His brown eyes met her blue. “Fuck her. You deserve so much better. Roan knew Echo was cheating on him, but she told him she’d stopped. She told him she had to do it to make sure marrying him was the right thing. It’s twisted and fucked up, but it doesn’t matter, because you will find someone who deserves you, Bellamy. And it’s not Echo.” 

Tears were threatening to fall from his eyes and Bellamy took a shuddering breath to hold them in.

“I’m just so fucking tired of random hookups. Echo made me think I could have more, but-”

“Forget about her, Blake,” Murphy offered a reassuring squeeze. “There’s gotta be some girl out there that’s willing to put up with you for more than a few months.”

“Shut up, Murphy,” Clarke and Bellamy said in unison.

“Just trying to help.”

“You know what would be helpful?” Clarke raised an eyebrow. “Go get Emori’s number, instead of taking a shot of tequila every time she catches you staring at her.”

“Fuck off, Griffin,” Murphy snarled and turned on his heel. It seemed like he was headed for the bar, but at the last minute he veered left towards one of the auction tables.

Bellamy watched curiously as Murphy approached a girl, tapping her on the shoulder roughly. She turned around, looking a little annoyed. Their conversation didn’t last more than a few minutes, until Murphy took out his phone and so did she. Clarke smirked and Bellamy raised his eyebrows in mild shock as they exchanged numbers.

A phone binged and Bellamy reached into his pocket.

_'Both of you shut up. I’m going home. You got Clarke?'_

_'Yeah, I got her.'_

Murphy looked up from his phone, saying goodbye to Emori, and giving Clarke and Bellamy the one finger solute from across the room.

“What did he say?” Clarke leaned over to glance at Bellamy’s messages.

“Said he’s taking off.”

“Are you going to go too?”

Was that disappointment in Clarke’s voice or was he imagining things? Bellamy glanced over, but her face was suspiciously blank.

“I’m not dressed for the occasion.”

“Neither was Murphy,” Clarke shrugged and chewed her lip. “We could stay, if you want. There’s an open bar and they haven’t served dessert yet.” 

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. “I figured you’d want to get out of here as soon as possible.”

“I’m not going to let my mom ruin the entire night. Besides, she already met Murphy and I’m not sure it can get much worse.”

One side of Bellamy’s mouth lifted.

“Alright, if you say so. But, I think I’m going to need a drink first.” 

Clarke smiled, a real smile and Bellamy faltered for a moment when she grabbed his hand, but Clarke was too busy pulling him towards the bar to notice.


	16. Chapter 16

After Bellamy had a drink in his hand and one in his stomach, Clarke dragged him over to the chocolate fountain. He watched, amused, as she piled a plate full of chocolate covered fruit and snacks. 

“What?” she asked, speaking around the marshmallow in her cheeks.

“Nothing,” Bellamy smiled. “You have chocolate all over your face.”

“No use wiping it off. I’ll just have more by the time I’m done,” she said and shoved a whole strawberry in her mouth as Bellamy continued chuckling.

They took a seat in one of the unoccupied tables at the back.

“So how was your mom’s speech?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t really listening.”

Bellamy snorted, “That boring?”

Clarke’s face dropped almost imperceptibly, but Bellamy caught it.

“I was too busy planning a murder to listen.”

It took him only a second to grasp what she had said and then the image of Clarke’s furious face inches from Echo’s resurfaced. Bellamy opened his mouth to speak, but he quickly shut it, not knowing what to say.

“I’m sorry you had to find out the way that you did,” Clarke said softly. 

Bellamy blinked at the hurt in her own voice. It was odd. No one except for Octavia, and maybe Miller, had ever been upset _for_ him.

“I’m glad I found out now and not later down the road,” Bellamy said and Clarke nodded.

“She’s lucky we were in public.”

The threat in her voice had Bellamy’s eyes widening, but when he looked over, Clarke had returned to her pile of chocolate treats. 

“What would you have done if you weren’t?”

The question flew out of his mouth before he could stop it. Clarke stopped chewing and met his eyes.

“Something unladylike,” she said.

Bellamy searched her face, looking for a lie, but it wasn’t there.

“Why?”

It was hard for him to fathom- Clarke standing up to Echo on his behalf. What had Murphy said? _Defending your honor._

Clarke wiped her hands on the nearby napkin and shoved the plate away.

“I know what it’s like to be cheated on and I know what it’s like to be betrayed by someone you trust. You finally allowed yourself to trust someone, Bellamy, and she betrayed you. I wasn’t going to stand by while she fucked you over. You’re a good man and you don’t deserve what she did.”

Bellamy’s throat had gone dry. Is that really what Clarke thought of him? She thought he was a good man?

She lowered her eyes and Bellamy felt a tug at his heart. There was something more hidden in her words, something personal. 

“You don’t deserve what happened to you either, Clarke,” he said.

“I know that,” she snapped, but Bellamy recognized the doubt behind her eyes. 

“I’m serious, Clarke. What Finn did to, what your mom did to you… you didn’t deserve it and it’s not your fault.”

“I know that, Bellamy,” she snapped again, but the façade was cracking.

Bellamy snatched her hand and pulled it, giving Clarke no choice but to turn her body towards him.

“Clarke.” His eyes bore into hers. “None of the bad shit that has happened to you is your fault.”

Her lip quivered and Bellamy tightened his hold.

“None of the bad shit that has happened to you is your fault either, Bellamy.”

A tear slid down her cheek.

“You don’t know that,” he said lowly.

Clarke’s eyes traveled his face, stopping briefly on his lips, and then his freckles.

“Yes I do. If you can say that it’s not my fault, then I can say it right back. You’re _good_ , Bellamy, no matter what you’ve done.” 

Bellamy didn’t realize he needed to hear that, until he had. He took a shuttering breath. Clarke didn’t even know about his past- about his mom and what he’d done to make sure Octavia grew up alright- yet she had decided he was good anyway.

In an instant, their moment was shattered.

“Bellamy?” 

Clarke and Bellamy turned their heads to see Abby and Marcus standing nearby, the latter looking a little confused. Abby just looked suspicious. 

“Hello, Kane.”

Bellamy dropped Clarke’s hand and leaned back in his chair, watching out of the corner of his eye as Clarke nervously adjusted her hair and wiped her face. 

“Clarke, where did your… _lovely_ date go?” Abby asked. 

“He had a shift,” Clarke said, flat, and her mom's mouth pinched.

“Charming. Mr. Blake, nice to see you again.”

In the same judgmental way Abby had scanned Murphy, she took in Bellamy’s t-shirt, jeans, and slightly damp hair.

“You too, Abby,” Bellamy said and Clarke liked the way her mother’s face soured at not being called Dr. Griffin. “As much as I enjoyed you barging into our apartment, I at least had time to get dressed for this event.”

Clarke straight up grinned at that. Murphy hadn’t pulled any punches with her mother and apparently Bellamy had the same idea. 

“Yes, about that, Bellamy. I really need to apologize for my unprofessionalism,” Kane said. The guilt around him was obvious. 

“It’s too late to take it back now,” Bellamy shrugged. Not quite accepting the half-ass apology. 

Abby cleared her throat, “Right, well, I need to speak with Clarke about a few things. Do you two mind giving us a minute?”

Kane inclined his head and stepped away, just as Clarke’s hand shot out. 

“Sorry, no can do, mom. Bellamy and I are actually about to go dance, before the band leaves.”

Clarke yanked him out of his seat before Bellamy had time to comprehend what was happening. She pulled him past Abby’s enraged face and right out onto the dance floor.

Between one moment and the next, Clarke's front was pressed against his. Out of instinct, Bellamy placed one hand on her waist as she brought her hand to rest on his shoulder and before they knew it, they were dancing. 

“Sorry,” she muttered. 

Bellamy chuckled and the sound reverberated through both of their chests. 

“Just give a guy some warning next time.”

“It was this or spill a drink all over you,” Clarke said.

“Good choice.”

Bellamy spun them around, moving in sync with the other couples to the soft song. Clarke got a whiff of his shampoo as they moved and tried not to make it obvious that her heartbeat had sped up. Why did men’s soap have to smell so damn good?

“For a princess, you’re a shit dancer,” Bellamy said as he spun them again. 

“Am not!” Clarke cried, offended.

On the next turn, she drug her leg a little, intentionally stepping on his foot with her heel. Bellamy grunted and took an abrupt step forward, making Clarke stumble and trip. His arm caught her easily. Clarke glared as he helped her regain her balance, but it only made Bellamy smirk.

“You keep trying to lead, Clarke. Every time I pull you one way, you pull us the opposite direction.”

“Well, sorry you can’t handle someone else being in charge.”

Bellamy snorted. “The man is supposed to be in charge when you’re dancing, Clarke.” 

“Says who?”

“Everyone.”

“By everyone, you mean every man.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes. God, she was insufferable sometimes. 

“Let me lead, Clarke, or I’ll drag you right back to your mom and leave you there.”

Her eyes darkened. “You wouldn’t dare.”

No, he wouldn’t.

But, Bellamy just raised an eyebrow in challenge. After a moment, Clarke relented- relaxing her shoulders and _finally_ letting Bellamy take over.

It was better this way- more smooth and less jerky. She could pay more attention to the muscles moving under her hand than worrying about bumping into the people around them. She scooted a fraction of an inch closer and Bellamy felt it, sliding his hand from her waist to the small of her back. He was so warm and smelled so good, she couldn’t help but tilt her head towards his neck. The pulse under his jaw jumped.

The song ended and they waited for another to start, but it never came. The lead guitarist made an announcement that the night was over and for everyone to have a safe drive home.

Reluctantly, Clarke took a step back and Bellamy’s hand skimmed along her back, not quite wanting to let go either. 

“I just need to grab my purse and then we can go.”

Bellamy nodded but neither of them moved. Someone passing by bumped into Clarke’s shoulder, jostling her into motion.

She strode towards the coat check, trying to ignore the way her palms were sweating and the fluttery feeling in her stomach. Bellamy followed silently behind and Clarke’s hands shook as she got her stuff. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. 

“I’m ready,” she said and Bellamy nodded. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Could he tell that she was nervous?

Clarke headed towards the parking garage, sneaking a peek at Bellamy from under her lashes. He was already looking at her and she jerked her gaze back towards the rows of cars.

The almost predatory look in his eye was something she had never seen before. It made her stomach flip and her cheeks flush. 

This was Bellamy. Bellamy, her exasperating roommate. Bellamy, who had just found out his girlfriend was engaged to another man. Bellamy, who thought Clarke was annoying and had no problem telling her that all the time.

Yet, he was still looking at her like _that._

Don’t think about it Griffin, don’t think about it. Whatever you do, don’t think about it.

They got into Bellamy's car and he blasted the heat, turning the radio down so it was just background noise. 

"Was it as bad as you thought?" Bellamy asked, his voice low and eyes focused on the road. 

"Huh?"

"Tonight. Was it as bad as you thought?" 

Clarke took a moment to think about what she was going to say.

"Besides seeing Echo make out with Roan and wanting to rip both of their throats out?" Clarke paused and Bellamy glanced over at her, eyes unreadable. "No, it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be."

"Good, I'm glad," Bellamy said. 

"But I did have to dance with this one guy who was super bossy and told me I was a bad dancer."

One side of Bellamy's mouth lifted. 

"Sounds like an ass."

"He is," Clarke said. "But I hear he has a pretty cool roommate."

Bellamy made a sound in the back of his throat. "Actually, she's the ass. He's just misunderstood."

Clarke flung a hand out, swatting him in the chest.

"Shut up," she growled and Bellamy laughed. 

 

Clarke went to bed that night unable to sleep. Every time she shut her eyes, all she could see was Bellamy, looking at her like he... like he _wanted_ her. She tried to tell herself that she'd imagined it. That he was just hurting after the Echo debacle and was looking for comfort. But no matter what Clarke told herself, deep down she knew the truth. 

Maybe she should've let her mom lecture her instead of hauling Bellamy onto the dance floor. That way, she would have at least been able to fall asleep. 


	17. Chapter 17

It was barely light out when Bellamy woke up, hours before he actually needed to be up for the day. But something was keeping him from sleeping. Hell, he’d tossed and turned all night.

He rolled out of bed and put on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, grabbed a water bottle and left the apartment.

It was cold as he started running, and he hadn’t warmed up, but the further he went the more loose his muscles got. He passed a bakery, smelling the bread they must be making, and then got a whiff of chocolate croissants. Chocolate.

Like a flood, the memory of the Gala last night whooshed back into his mind. This was what had kept him from sleeping. Clarke, her body against his, smelling like chocolate and perfume. Clarke in that damn dress, looking sexy as hell, and tilting her head so she was breathing on his neck. _Whatever you do, don’t look down_ , Bellamy had told himself. The sight of Clarke’s already very visible chest pressed tight against his own as she looked up at him with those big blue eyes was likely to put him in a coma. 

_You’re a good man. It’s not your fault._

A pang of guilt hit him. Echo. Just yesterday, he’d been in a relationship. But even the thought of Echo cheating on him drew Bellamy’s mind back to Clarke and the fierceness with which she had defended him. 

He knew he shouldn’t be thinking about her this way, but it was impossible not to now that he’d started. Clarke was his roommate and his friend. Never, in the time since he’d known her, had Bellamy thought of her as anything more. Sure, he knew she was beautiful and smart and sarcastic, but that was just… Clarke.

It didn’t matter how long he ran, Bellamy could not turn his brain off. Eventually, he decided to call it quits and looped back towards the apartment.

Clarke was in the kitchen when he came in, breathing hard.

“Hey,” she called, but Bellamy couldn’t hear over the music blasting through his headphones. It wouldn’t have mattered if he’d heard her anyways, he still would have been stuck in place, staring. A ringing in his ears. 

Her back was to him, legs fully exposed under a huge sweatshirt that hung down to mid thigh and her hair was tied up in a messy bun. When she turned around, Bellamy gulped. The blue sweatshirt she wore had yellow print on the front. _Polis High School._

Bellamy tugged the ear buds away from his ears. 

“Clarke, where did you get that?”

“Get what?”

“That sweatshirt.”

She glanced down at the garment in question.

“I took it from Octavia a few years ago. I don’t think she knows I still have it.”

Bellamy ran a hand through his sweaty curls and tried not to think about the funny feeling in his gut.

“It’s a little big on you, don’t you think?”

“That’s why I like it.”

The coffee pot gurgled and Clarke turned to open the cupboard. Most of their mugs were dirty, so she had to reach for one on the top shelf.  As she rose onto her tiptoes, the sweatshirt lifted, revealing that Clarke was definitely not wearing any shorts underneath. Bellamy made a sound in the back of his throat and jerked his eyes away. 

Clarke’s processing skills weren’t the best in the morning, especially when she hadn’t had any coffee. So, Bellamy waited until her mug was half empty to try again.

“Clarke, that’s my sweatshirt.”

“Huh?”

She spun, mug still to her lips.

“Octavia stole that sweatshirt from me.”

She blinked. Then blinked again. Then blinked again. Finally, Clarke set the coffee to the side.

“Oh, I, uh- duh. I mean, duh, of course this is yours. It’s huge, it would never fit Octavia.”

Bellamy watched her ramble.

“Sorry,” Clarke finally said, face red as a tomato. “I’ll wash it and give it back.”

“You can keep it, if you want,” Bellamy stuttered. 

God, what was he thinking? As if Clarke walking around in her scrub pants and a tank top wasn’t distracting enough, now she was going to be walking around in _his_ clothes?

 _Idiot_ , Blake, _you’re an idiot._

“No, I, I should give it back,” Clarke said. She started pulling on the bottom of the sweatshirt, trying to hide more of her leg, and Bellamy had to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing her hands. Watching her squirm wasn't helping any. 

After another awkward minute, Clarke brushed past him, coffee abandoned, and went to her room. She came back wearing a much smaller sweatshirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. A sting of disappointment hit Bellamy, though he couldn’t say why.

Clarke headed for the laundry closet, but Bellamy stepped forward.

“You don’t have to wash it.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, it’s fine,” he held a hand out and she placed the heavy blue sweatshirt in his grip.

“Sorry… about that,” she wrinkled her nose and Bellamy tried to give her a reassuring smile. 

“Seriously, Clarke. It’s fine.”

They made small talk over breakfast. Emori had texted Clarke, saying she and Murphy had a date tonight. Bellamy made a comment about not knowing the last time Murphy had an actual date. Octavia had been calling Bellamy nonstop- asking for his tux measurements, his school schedule, how many people did he want to invite to the wedding, and on and on. Clarke said she was getting the same calls, though she seemed to enjoy the wedding planning more than Bellamy did. They didn’t bring up the Gala, but it was in the back of both of their minds.

Clarke offered to do the dishes and Bellamy went to go shower, he had a parent meeting today. He went to grab a towel, spotting the Polis sweatshirt in a heap on his bed.

Bellamy reached to fling it into the dirty clothes bin, but stopped when his nose prickled.

Bellamy definitely didn’t bring the sweatshirt up to his face to smell it and he definitely didn’t recognize the scent of Clarke’s shampoo or the distinct odor of acrylic paint.

Shit.

Well, it couldn’t be that dirty, right? Bellamy bypassed the laundry bin, instead folding the shirt and putting it in his dresser.

Deciding not to think too much about it, Bellamy grabbed his towel and headed for the bathroom.

 

* * *

 

 

When he came into his classroom on Monday, Bellamy was surprised to see that someone was already there.

Madi was in the back of the room, sitting on one of the desks, feet on the chair- the way she knew Bellamy hated. Chairs were for sitting, desks were for writing.

“Madi? What are you doing here?”

It was at least an hour before school started. She looked up from her phone and grinned.

“Hey, Mr. Blake. I was hoping I could talk to you about something.”

Bellamy set down his stack of papers and hung his jacket up on the coat rack.

“Did you have a question about the homework?” 

He’d assigned a pretty lengthy reading and expected them to struggle to comprehend it. But, that’s why they were going to spend the whole week discussing it in class. 

“No,” Madi said, hopping down off of the desk and grabbing her backpack. She came closer, setting the pack down on Bellamy’s own desk. Papers and pens and gum came flying out, as she started ruffling through it. “Clarke already helped me with it.” 

The image of Clarke and Madi sitting on a gurney, books and snacks piled all around them, swam into his mind. Clarke would lean down to explain something to Madi and Madi would nod along thoughtfully, or comment about how this assignment was stupid, and then Clarke would laugh and agree, but tell her she had to do it anyway. 

The idea alone did something funny to Bellamy’s chest.

“Oh, so what do you need?”

“This,” Madi handed over a crumpled paper.

Bellamy took it thoughtfully, raising his eyebrows when he saw the big red 'D' at the top. 

“It’s my paper for Mr. McCreary’s class,” Madi explained. “I worked for weeks on it and that’s what he gave me. Clarke even proofread it for me.”

Bellamy flipped through the pages. He’d taken off two points for her indent being too big, two for putting too many spaces in between sentences, five for using “accept” instead of “except,” and so on. The grading was harsh, even by Bellamy’s standards. Just from skimming it, he could tell the paper had good content and organization.

“I don’t understand what you want me to do, Madi,” Bellamy said.

“Mr. McCreary doesn’t like me and he grades my work harder than everyone else’s. Atom got an A and he didn’t even have a conclusion paragraph!”

“Have you talked to Mr. McCreary?”

Madi sighed. “I’ve tried, but every time I go into his classroom, he says he has a meeting or a lesson to plan. One time he told me to just stop bothering him.”

Bellamy’s hands clenched. McCreary was by no means a nice teacher. He was tough on his students and picked favorites, but teachers weren’t supposed to be bias when it came to grading. And they weren’t supposed to send away students who asked for help. 

“I don’t know what I can do about this, Madi. Have you talked to the principal?”

“I was going to, but Clarke suggested I ask you first.”

Of course she had.

“Mr. Kane has a lot more influence around here than I do, Madi.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t like me either.” 

“What?” Bellamy said.

Sure, he had students who were a pain and disruptive, but they were still kids. How could you not like a kid? Especially one as bright as Madi. Her home life sucked and she still managed to stay positive. It didn’t matter that some of her work was late. It was always done right. 

“He thinks I’m a troublemaker.” 

Well, she had gotten into a few fights, but Bellamy had read the incident reports and there was a common theme. Most of the fights had started when Madi stood up for someone else. The thought was there, her approach was just a little wonky.

“Alright, I’ll talk to Mr. McCreary, but I can’t go in there without at least some proof. I’ll need to see some of the other students’ papers, to compare.”

Madi’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Really? Okay, no problem. I’ll ask some of my friends for theirs.”

“No promises, Madi.”

“I know. Thank you, Mr. Blake!” She shoved the tattered paper back into her backpack and headed for the door. Bellamy smiled and sat down, turning on his computer.

“Hey, Mr. Blake?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time you make that chicken and rice stuff, do you think you could make it without mushrooms? I’m allergic.”

Bellamy faltered.  “Uh, yeah sure.”

Madi grinned and popped a piece of gum into her mouth. “Thanks! See you in class, Mr. Blake.”

He waved goodbye and Madi left the room, almost skipping as she went.

Reaching for his phone, Bellamy pulled up the messages icon and began typing.

 

> **To** The Princess _: Why did Madi just ask if I would stop using mushrooms in my chicken and rice dish?_

His phone binged almost immediately.  

 

> **From** The Princess:  _Because she's allergic._

Bellamy rolled his eyes. Really Clarke?

 

> **To** The Princess:  _If she's not eating it, why does it matter?_
> 
> **From** The Princess:  _Her parents don't pack her dinner and she volunteers for five hour shifts. Sue me!_

Bellamy stared at the message for a little while, re-reading it. Clarke had been giving her leftovers to Madi. 

 

> **To** The Princess:  _If she's eating my leftovers, what are you eating?_

No reply.

 

> **To** The Princess:  _... Clarke._
> 
> **From** The Princess:  _The hospital has a wonderful assortment of vending machines._

Bellamy cursed. Dammit, Clarke. Why hadn't she just told him?  

 

> **To**  The Princess: _You're kidding, right?_ _You can't survive on a bag of chips and a candy bar, Clarke._
> 
> **To**  The Princess: _I'll start making extra for you AND Madi._
> 
> **From** The Princess: _I'm starting to understand why Octavia always calls you mom._
> 
> **From** The Princess:  _But, thanks. She also hates sweet potatoes._
> 
> **To**  The Princess:  _I know you're the one that doesn't like them, Clarke. Not Madi._
> 
> **From**  The Princess: _Yeah, whatever._


	18. Chapter 18

Every Monday and Wednesday, Bellamy worked at the Ark for a few hours. Usually, Murphy was there and they’d have a good time screwing around and cracking jokes, but tonight he was dreading going for fear that Echo would be working.

She hadn’t contacted him since the Gala and Bellamy had packed up the few things she’d left in his room and put them in his car. If she was working tonight, he’d give them to her then.

Unsurprisingly, Murphy was late and he came in bleary eyed and yawning.

“I didn’t sleep last night,” he snapped when he saw Bellamy’s disappointing frown.

“Didn’t say a word.”

“Then stop looking at me like that.”

Bellamy raised his eyebrows and turned to go keep unloading the shipments that had just come in. Maybe that new girl, Emori, had something to do with Murphy not sleeping. Clarke had said good things about her- mostly that she wouldn’t put up with any of Murphy’s shit and that she gave it just as good as she got it. Bellamy would have to ask later, when Murphy wasn’t in such a fowl mood.

Two familiar faces walked in around nine. 

“What are you doing here?” Bellamy blurted.

“Nice to see you too, bro.”

Octavia and Raven slid into seats right in front of him, grinning and still both in their work clothes. Octavia was wearing leggings and a tank top with the kickboxing gym logo on it and she had some medical tape wrapped around her wrists. Raven was in her mechanic’s jumper, though it was unzipped and tied around her waist, revealing only a t-shirt underneath. They were both sweaty and dirty, but obviously didn’t give a damn about what anyone thought.

It became clear Bellamy wasn’t going to ask what they wanted to drink and Murphy was nowhere to be found. Raven rolled her eyes and Octavia just made a noise in the back of her throat. 

“We’ll take two of the light ales on tap and a side of fries.”

Grunting in acknowledgement, Bellamy started pouring their drinks. The girls chitchatted about today's shitty clients, and Bellamy half listened. It was slow tonight- always was on Mondays- but another customer entered and he looked up at the bell chime.

Except it wasn’t a customer, it was Echo.

One of the glasses overfilled and it sloshed onto his shoes. Bellamy cursed.

“Is Murphy here?” Echo asked, looking everywhere but at Bellamy.

“In the back. Are you working tonight?”

Echo shook her head, “Just came to pick up my check and tell Murphy I’m quitting.”

It wasn’t a surprise, really. There’s no way he would be able to work in a place where his ex and all of his ex’s friends hung out. 

“Oh.”

Echo nodded again and her eyes met his for the first time. She looked worn out, if the small rings under her eyes and strung out hair were any indication. 

“Do you think we could talk?” she said, barely above a whisper.

Bellamy cleared his throat and set the two glasses in front of Octavia and Raven, who had stopped talking and were not shy about hiding their interest in he and Echo’s conversation. 

“If you want to walk with me to my car, I can give you your stuff,” Bellamy said.

“Okay, let me just go talk to Murphy first."

As soon as she was gone, Octavia opened her mouth, but Echo was already back, envelope in hand. She waited near the bar for Bellamy to set down his rag and come around the side. They began speaking quietly as they walked for the door. 

“What the hell was that about?” Octavia snapped to Murphy as he came out of the backroom. 

“What?”

Raven jerked her head towards the front door. “Echo and Bellamy. Did they break up?”

Murphy’s eyes widened. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No, he didn’t say anything. What the hell happened?”

Murphy took a deep breath. “Echo is engaged to someone else.”

“ _What_?” Octavia slammed her fist into the bar.

 _That bitch_.  _How dare she. And to Bellamy?_

There was a burning desire in Octavia to run after them and beat Echo into a pulp for what she’d done. Bellamy had finally opened up to someone and this is what he got. Not on Octavia’s watch. Not her brother. 

“Did Bellamy catch them together?” Raven asked, concerned.

“No, Clarke did. At the Gala. Echo was making out with one of the other doctors on the dance floor. I thought Clarke was going to strangle her.”

“I wish she had,” Raven said as Octavia muttered, “I’m going to kill her.”

A darkness filled Octavia’s features and she stood, but Raven caught her by the elbow

“I think Clarke already called dibs,” Murphy smirked.

Raven raised an eyebrow, trying very hard to get more information out of Murphy while making sure Octavia didn’t sprint out of the bar.

The Ark door swung open and Bellamy came back in, hands in his pockets and Echo-less. 

“What did Clarke do?” Raven whispered to Murphy.

“She was ready to fight Echo right there in front of all those people. I had to literally hold her back at one point and she only stopped struggling because her mom started that stupid speech." 

 _Curious_ , Raven thought. Since when did Clarke become so protective of Bellamy? They hated each other like two weeks ago …Didn’t they? 

Octavia wiggled out of Raven’s distracted grip, striding right up to Bellamy and pounding him in the chest. 

“How come you didn’t tell me? I’m going to beat the living shit-”

The punch made him grunt, but Bellamy recovered quickly, grabbing onto Octavia’s shoulders and holding her. 

“No, you’re not. Echo and I are done, O, and you need to cool it.”

“She cheated on you!” Octavia cried.

“Yeah, I know,” Bellamy muttered and began pushing his sister backwards, into her seat. 

“How can you be so calm about this?” Octavia yelled.

“Because I found out about it a few days ago and there’s nothing I can do about it. And neither can you.” 

Octavia huffed. 

“Does Clarke have anything to do with you being so _okay_ about this?” Raven asked nonchalantly. But Murphy grunted in surprise, giving her a look that said he thought she was crazy.

Octavia’s gaze swung to Raven, intrigue quickly replacing her anger. “What about Clarke?”

Bellamy didn’t answer as he walked behind the bar, but he wasn’t looking any of them in the face. They watched as he busied himself, beginning to cut new slices of limes and lemons.

He could feel them scrutinizing him. 

“Clarke doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Bellamy said, keeping his focus on the cutting board.

He was trying to act indifferent, calm, but Octavia noticed the red tips of his ears and her eyes widened. As if a light bulb turned on, she and Raven shared a disbelieving look.

“Wait, did Clarke tell you about Echo and the doctor or…” Raven started. 

“I called him,” Murphy smirked, “He came to the Gala and saw for himself. And then I left.” 

“You left Clarke by herself?” Octavia asked innocently, hoping the answer was no. 

“Bellamy stayed with her,” Murphy explained.

The knife made a scratching sound on the cutting board as it missed the lemon completely.

Trying to suppress their grins, Raven and Octavia both took a sip of beer.

“Did you guys have a good time?” Raven asked at the same time Octavia said, “Did you guys dance?” 

The cutting stopped completely, and Bellamy set the knife down far too gently. When he lifted his head, there was a dark look in his eye. A warning. 

“Why don’t you two just spit it out?”

“You and Clarke have gotten pretty close,” Raven said, still beating around the bush.

“Just because we aren’t screaming at each other every ten minutes anymore doesn’t mean we are _close_.”

But it was a lie and they all knew it.

After hard days, Bellamy and Clarke would confide in each other, order takeout, drink, play board games, or watch movies. They’d fallen asleep on the couch together more than once and when they’d wake up smooshed together, there would be no awkwardness, only a fight over who had to make coffee. He knew her order for every food place and her drink order for every bar. He could tell by her paintings if she was in a good mood or bad. He knew by the way she chewed her lip if she was deep in thought or if her mom had tried calling again.

And Clarke seemed to know things about him too. Sometimes Bellamy would get home and find that she had prerecorded a history documentary he didn’t even know was on. Every time Octavia called about the upcoming wedding, Clarke would appear by Bellamy’s side with hot tea or a fresh muffin - she was a shit baker, but that was beside the point. Brochures for colleges with online master’s programs starting showing up on the coffee table- each one with a great history education program. One day, Clarke came home with a pack of his favorite grading pens because she saw that they were on sale.

Bellamy would get her a cookie from Starbucks if he was getting a drink, even if he wasn’t going to see her for hours and he had to leave it on the counter.

Bellamy’s shoes had started joining Clarke’s near the front door after months of them being meticulously organized in his closet. 

When he made dinner, Bellamy would still label his leftovers, but now he made extra and would label a container for her too… which he now had to start doing for Madi.

Fuck.

They were close.

“You guys are practically attached at the hip,” Octavia goaded, not realizing Bellamy was having an internal crisis.

When the fuck had Clarke Griffin become his best friend?

“Bell?” Octavia waived a hand in front of his face, but he still didn’t blink.

“Did something happen at the Gala?” Raven asked, wide-eyed.

The haze around him finally lifted. 

“No, nothing. I just, yeah. I didn’t realize how close we had actually gotten until right now.”

Murphy snorted and Raven shook her head in amusement, but Octavia remained silent, thoughtful.

“I don’t think she realizes either,” Raven said. “Clarke is as oblivious as you when it comes to feelings."

“I don’t have feelings for her,” Bellamy said and then winced at how quickly he had responded. 

A beat. 

“Okay,” Octavia said like she didn’t believe it. Raven didn’t even comment, but her face said it all.

A bell rang and Bellamy strode off to retrieve their order of fries.

Thankfully, when he got back, the subject had changed to Monty and Jasper’s upcoming St. Patrick’s Day party. Apparently, they were trying to find a way to make the beer green without making everybody sick.

No one brought up Clarke again that night, for which Bellamy was grateful. But, he could almost see his sister’s mind working every time she looked at him. Something was going on in her head and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what it was. 

They decided to close a little early, considering there were no customers and it was starting to rain. The girls stuck around to help Murphy and Bellamy clean tables and stock napkins. 

Octavia cornered Bellamy as he was putting the money from the cash register in the safe.

“You like her, don’t you?”

Bellamy closed the safe door and stood from his crouch. 

“Who?”

Maybe playing dumb would get him out of this conversation.

“You like Clarke,” Octavia didn’t even bother making it a question.

Bellamy chose his words carefully.

“She’s my friend, O. I think maybe even my best friend.”

Clarke understood Bellamy like no one else ever had. Often, he even wondered if she could read his mind. It seemed like it sometimes.

His sister’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. Did something happen between you two?”

_Not really a something. More of a nothing. Or an almost._

“Jesus, O,” Bellamy ran an aggravated hand through his hair. “Echo and I just broke up!”

Yet, he’d felt nothing when Echo had told him she was sorry and hoped she hadn’t hurt him. Nothing when she had hugged him and sobbed and said she hoped he could forgive her. 

“So?”

“So, I’m not ready for that again so soon!”

A moment passed and Octavia folded her hands, thinking. It was a rare look for his sister- pensive.

“I never said you and Clarke had to date. But if you like her, you should tell her." 

“I don’t like her like that, O.” 

_I just like the way she laughs when I tell her stories about my students or the way she wakes up grumpy and mutters inaudible nonsense until she’s had coffee. Or maybe the way she takes care of Madi, even though it’s not her job. I like the warm look in her eye when she talks about Wells or her father and the way she talks to herself when she paints. I like watching her nostrils flare when she gets angry and the exasperated scoff she gives when I tell her to stop being a princess. I like the way she looked shoving food into her mouth, even though she was wearing a very formal floor length gown and heels._

_Oh god. He was so fucked._

“Alright,” Octavia said. “When you decide to get your head out of your ass, just let me know.”

She turned on her heel, leaving Bellamy alone with his thoughts, which was starting to become a very dangerous thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very Bellamy heavy chapter. Clarke is next and then the good stuff!


	19. Chapter 19

“Clarke!”

“Go away,” Clarke grumbled at the pounding on the door, knowing no one could hear her from under the bed covers.

“I know you’re in there, Clarke!” Raven yelled.

The knocking stopped and Clarke could finally close her eyes again. She’d only gotten home three hours ago and she needed at least three more before heading back to work.

There was a scratching noise and a scraping and then the front door was flung open.

“Ugghhhh,” Clarke groaned.

Something heavy landed on the bed, shifting her.

“Did you just pick our lock?” Clarke grumbled into the mattress.

“Yup. Get up, Griffin. We are going to breakfast.”

“I have work this afternoon.”

“And you need to eat a good meal before you go.” Raven swatted Clarke’s ass. “Come on!”

Clarke turned over, “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah I know. Now hurry up, I’m double parked.”

Clarke ran her hands through her hair and then dropped them down on the mattress, making the comforter puff.

“Fine.”

Raven beamed. “That’s the spirit.”

I didn’t take long for Clarke to get ready. She threw on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans and a pair of sandals. Raven didn’t comment when she watched Clarke lick her fingers and wipe the leftover mascara from under her eyes or when she didn’t even brush her hair before braiding it. 

“You’re buying,” Clarke grumbled and got her keys out to lock the door behind them. They walked down the hall and Raven threw a hand over Clarke’s shoulder. 

“Was already planning on it.”

 

 

The breakfast place they went to was known for their gourmet drinks and nice outdoor patio. Clarke wasted no time ordering the most sugary latte they had with extra shots of espresso and whipped cream. 

“Any food?” the waitress asked.

“I’ll just take the fruit plate,” Clarke said. The coffee was all the food she really needed anyways.

“I’ll have three eggs, scrambled, bacon, sourdough toast, and an orange juice,” Raven said, handing the menus over. 

“I’ll have that right out.” 

“So, want to tell me why we’re here?” Clarke took a long sip of her delicious diabetes in a cup.

“We’re having breakfast, Clarke.” 

“You broke into my apartment just to take me to breakfast? You forget, I know when you’re lying, Ray.”

Raven’s eyes widened innocently, but Clarke didn’t waver. There was an ulterior motive here- she could sense it.

“Fine,” Raven sighed. “Murphy said some shit went down at the Gala and I want the dirt.”

Clarke snorted and gave her friend a fond smile. Of course this was about that. The waitress came back with the food and a refill for Clarke.

“What did Murphy tell you?” 

“Not much,” Raven shrugged. “But Octavia and I were at the Ark last night and Echo came in. She said some weird stuff and Bellamy was acting all twitchy and then when they went out to his car, Murphy told us she’d cheated.”

At the mention of Echo’s name, Clarke’s face hardened.

“I saw her stick her tongue down Roan’s throat and when I confronted them about it, Roan said they were engaged and he knew all about her little affair! Echo just hadn’t told him she was still seeing Bellamy. I don’t know why Echo even came to the Gala, she knows I’m a doctor there.”

Clarke was too busy fuming to notice the way Raven studied her. “She probably didn’t know what hospital you worked at.” 

“I know Bellamy’s mentioned it when she was around. I’ve heard him.”

“If I was Bellamy’s girlfriend, I wouldn’t listen to him talk about you either.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Clarke’s voice rose an octave.

“It means that anyone dating Bellamy is going to be jealous of how close you guys are.”

“No they’re not! Not if they really care about him.” 

“Clarke, imagine dating someone who only talks about another girl.”

The food was getting cold.

“He doesn’t always talk about me!” Clarke said, offended.

“No, but he worries about you all the time and he’s always doing stuff for you. Making you food, special ordering your favorite beer for the Ark, ironing your scrubs! The other day he brought your car into the shop when you were at work, because you said it was making a weird sound but refused to get it checked out yourself!”

Clarke hadn’t known about that, but Bellamy did have her spare key. Come to think of it, she hadn’t heard the Mustang rattling at all this past week.

“So? Bellamy is like that with everybody.”

“There is only one other person Bellamy cares about that much.”

It was obvious the person Raven was talking about. Octavia.

Clarke sputtered, unable to form proper thoughts, let alone words.

“Bellamy doesn’t care about me as much as he cares about Octavia,” she finally said, but it sounded more like a question.

Raven raised an eyebrow. “Why did you get so mad when you saw Echo and Roan?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Clarke asked indignantly.

“Just answer the question, Clarke.”

“I was pissed, because she was cheating on Bellamy right in front of me!”

“Why didn’t you just call him then?”

“I didn’t want him to have to see her do it.”

“Why?” Raven pressed.

“Because I didn’t want to hurt him.”

“Because you care about him.”

“Yes,” Clarke replied without hesitation.

Raven leaned back in her chair, a satisfied smirk emerging.

Clarke furrowed her brows. “Why are you giving me that look?”

“You’re a smart girl, Griffin. You figure it out," Raven glanced at her watch, "I’m late for work anyways.”

“What? You’re the one that invited me to breakfast!” 

Raven smirked again. “Bellamy was worried you hadn't been eating. I told him I would take care of it.” 

The full plate of food was pushed across the table and Clarke gaped. She should have realized what was going on sooner. Raven liked her eggs sunny side up, not scrambled.

Baffled, Clarke watched Raven stretch, loosening her hurt knee, and swing her keys around a finger.

“For two of the most intelligent people I know, you're both acting like idiots,” Raven said, then leaned down to kiss Clarke on the top of the head and leave. 

Huh?

Clarke glanced down at the plate of food Raven had ordered and her stomach rumbled. When was the last time she’d actually had a full meal? Two, maybe three days ago.

Halfway through the scrambled eggs, the coffee kicked in and Clarke's brain seemed to finally, _finally,_ start functioning properly.

The fork clattered as it hit the plate.

This was never intended to be a casual breakfast, it was an interrogation! Or maybe an intervention…

Clarke’s thoughts were like a runaway train. Once they got started, there was no turning back.

Bellamy cared about her as much as his own sister.

Bellamy did things for her because he cared about her. Because he worried about her. 

Clarke was ready to kill Echo for hurting him.

She remembered the way he’d looked at her that night, the way they danced, and how she was unable to sleep afterwards. The look in his eye when he’d told her she was wearing his sweatshirt. The protectiveness he had offered against her mother. All of it...

 _It’s not your fault_

Fuck.

Bellamy had wormed his way into Clarke’s life. Starting off as an annoying roommate and turning into a solid presence, a friend.

But when the hell had he become one of the most important people she had ever had?


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I've been out of town this past week. Hope you enjoy!

Clarke’s phone binged in the middle of her shift. She was on her way to the surgical floor, about to assist on a heart valve replacement.

> **From** Bellamy: Are you going to Lincoln’s show tonight?

Clarke cursed. That was tonight? She’d completely forgotten in the middle of her crazy ass work schedule and sleepless nights, but she’d promised Octavia she would show up. 

> **To** Bellamy: Might be a little late, but I’ll try to make it.

There was no telling if she’d be pulled into an emergency surgery or if her charting would be done by eight o’clock.

> **From** Bellamy: I’ll make sure to hide the shrimp platter for you. It’ll be gone in minutes if Jasper and Monty come.

Clarke smiled at her phone and pocketed it, pushing the door to the stairwell open and praying she wouldn't be  _too_ late.

 

“Where’s Clarke?” Octavia snapped, almost making Bellamy lose his grip on his drink.

“She just got out of surgery and she’s on her way,” Bellamy said, checking his phone. No new messages. Octavia glowered, crossing her arms. “What’s wrong, O? She’s coming. Its only eight thirty.”

Miller stood next to Bellamy, sipping his drink in silence.

Octavia muttered something under her breath and continued to stew. Bellamy didn’t understand the fuss. Just then, Lincoln sidled up next to them. He was dressed in a dark green shirt and black tie, slacks and shiny shoes. He looked professional and at ease- even though this was one of the biggest nights of his life. After years of being a freelance photographer, Lincoln had finally managed to secure an exhibit, in a well-known studio. If all went well, this would be his big break.

“Clarke here yet?” Lincoln rumbled.

“On her way,” Bellamy said, furrowing his eyebrows at them both. Why were they so concerned about Clarke? Murphy hadn’t shown up yet either.

The show was going well. People were drinking and eating and enjoying the photographs. Even Bellamy had to admit they were impressive and the viewers seemed to agree. Lincoln had already sold three pieces and the night was just getting started.

“There she is,” Octavia breathed, striding forward to catch Clarke at the door. Lincoln followed close behind, but Bellamy stayed put, watching from a distance. 

Clarke was still in her scrubs, looking a tad flustered. Bellamy watched Octavia throw her hands up in frustration and Clarke responded by crossing her arms and snarking something back. Then, Octavia grabbed Clarke by the upper arm, dragging her towards the coat closet.

“It’s a good thing I knew you were going to do this,” Octavia growled as she continued dragging Clarke, now holding a pile of clothing in her other arm. They swept past Bellamy and Miller and into one of the bathrooms. 

“What was that all about?” Miller asked. Bellamy shrugged, just as puzzled. 

Octavia emerged a minute later, making eye contact and stalking through the crowd towards them, mumbling to herself in angry tones. 

“I knew she was going to do this!” 

“Do what, O? She was at work. She was hurrying!” Bellamy said, confused, and getting a little angry with his sister for being unreasonable.

“She forgot, Bellamy. You probably had to remind her!”

Probably, but why did that matter? Clarke was always busy and her schedule at the hospital this week was hellish. 

“What’s the big deal?” Bellamy cried. “This is Lincoln’s show and you’re worried about Clarke showing up late? At least she came!”

Octavia opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by Lincoln, calling to her across the room.

“Here,” she forced something into his hand. “Give this to Clarke when she’s done changing.”

Bellamy glanced down. It was a present, a small blue bag with wrapping paper sticking out of the top. Why did Octavia buy Clarke a present?

“Sometimes, I wish I’d never met your sister.” 

Clarke stood a few feet away. A beige turtleneck, navy slacks, and nude heels had replaced her scrubs. Her hair, which had been in a messy ponytail, was braided down her back and she’d put on some light makeup. She looked… good, poised, dressed up in a way Bellamy had never seen before. 

“Totally understandable. She brought you that?” He nodded towards her outfit. 

Clarke glanced down at herself, adjusting the hem of the sweater self-consciously.

“Yeah, Octavia knew I would forget to bring a change of clothes.”

“I thought you looked fine in scrubs,” Bellamy said and Clarke lifted one side of her mouth. He passed the bag over. “O told me to give you this.”

 Clarke’s eyebrows raised, but she took the gift, shifting the wrapping paper to see inside.

“What is it?” Miller asked. 

Clarke stared into the bag for a moment.

“Uh, nothing. It’s uh, nothing.”

She lowered the present and Bellamy watched her face transform into something unreadable, vacant.

“Clarke?” Bellamy questioned. 

“I should go talk to Lincoln. Congratulate him,” she said and starting moving away before they could ask any more questions.

“That was weird,” Miller muttered. No kidding.

Bellamy watched Clarke go, noting the stiffness in her shoulders and uncomfortable way she was carrying herself, and the present.

In fact, he spent the rest of the night keeping an eye on Clarke. She flitted from person to person, pointing at the photos and exchanging smiles and conversation. Art was definitely her element and the unease she had showed earlier was gone, but that didn’t stop Bellamy from worrying. 

Bellamy stayed near Miller most of the night, though Jasper, Monty, Raven and Harper had joined them. Octavia moved through the room purposefully, talking to viewers, checking in on Lincoln, occasionally speaking to Clarke. This was Lincoln’s night and she was going to make sure it went perfectly.

“What’s over there?” Harper gestured towards a smaller room near the back of the studio. Bellamy had thought it was just a hallway at first, but people had been streaming in and out of it all night. He’d just been too preoccupied to go check it out.

“Let’s go see,” Jasper said, taking off and leaving everyone else to follow.

This room was smaller than the other, almost like it had once been a storage space. The lighting was less bright and the floor creaked beneath their feet. Yet, it was packed full of people.

On the walls were more of Lincoln’s photographs. But unlike the other exhibit, these photos were all in black and white. Next to each one was a painting. The paintings were mirror images of the photographs, except they were in color, vibrant, beautiful color. The contrast between the same image, one in crisp greys and the other in abstract swirls of paint, was intriguing and… stunning.

The group wormed their way in between the other viewers, trying to get a better look. The photograph and paintings were being sold as a set. Four already had a sold sign tacked into the wall next to them.

“Holy shit,” Monty breathed.

“Wow,” Harper nodded.

“I didn’t know Lincoln painted,” Raven said, looking at the nearest piece with a wide open mouth. 

“He doesn’t.”

The group spun towards the voice. Octavia stood at the entrance of the small room, holding a glass of wine and smiling like she knew a secret.

If Lincoln didn't paint, then who's were these? Bellamy glanced at the small card on the wall, but the only thing listed was Lincoln’s name and the location of the photograph. 

“Then who painted these?” Raven asked.

Octavia just raised a brow and sipped her wine.

There was only one person Bellamy knew that could paint… 

Everyone else seemed to have the same realization.

“Clarke?” Jasper and Monty exclaimed at the same time. 

“No way,” Raven gasped.

Bellamy's stayed silent in his shock.

Octavia smirked and shrugged, turning on her heel to go back towards the less crowed room. Everyone hung back, eager to keep admiring the art now that they knew who had created it, but Bellamy followed his sister. 

In the more open room, he searched for Clarke, expecting her to be chatting with some more viewers, or maybe getting a drink. But, she wasn’t in the crowd of people.

There was a small flash of light and Bellamy turned his attention towards it. 

Lincoln’s arm was wrapped around Clarke’s shoulder as they smiled for a picture. Bellamy’s heart constricted at the happiness in Clarke’s eyes, the pride. Lincoln whispered something in her ear and Clarke giggled, just as the photographer snapped another shot.

After a moment, Clarke stepped away, saying something about this being Lincoln’s night. He smiled graciously and turned towards the photographer, who was now asking questions. Maybe he was actually a reporter.

Clarke caught Bellamy’s eye and he swore she blushed. They moved towards each other, meeting in the middle of the room.

“You forgot about your own art show,” Bellamy said, shaking his head, a hint of amusement playing at his lips. 

Clarke huffed. She’d been busy, okay? There had been a million other things on her mind. 

“It’s not _my_ art show.”

Bellamy raised his eyebrows, tilting his chin towards the smaller showcase room. “Really? Because that’s your art in there and if I’m not mistaken, this is a showing. Ergo, this is your art show, Clarke.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just because my painting are here doesn’t mean it’s my show. It’s Lincoln’s.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” Bellamy paused. "When did you have time to do all that?"

"You're an old man and go to bed early. Doesn't mean the rest of us do."

"Ten is not early!"

She laughed. "Okay, grandpa."

Bellamy huffed and they lapsed into an easy silence. She was back to fiddling with her shirt. 

“Clarke, your paintings are incredible.”

Her eyes lifted to his, startled. “You think?”

This wasn’t fishing for compliments. The doubt in her eyes told him that she really, truly didn’t know how talented she was.

Bellamy tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “They’re beautiful.”

Clarke smiled and lifted her hand to his chest, resting it on his heart.

“Thanks, Bell.”

Bell. Had she ever called him that before? Octavia was the only one...

His heart skipped a beat and it took a moment for him to recover and return the smile. They stayed like that, staring at each other and smiling, until someone cleared their throat, slicing through the air that had been thickening.

Clarke jumped and jerked her hand down to her side. Bellamy coughed, taking a small step back.

Murphy’s eyebrows were in his hairline and he had his arms crossed, looking smug and annoyed at the same time. “I was told there would be free booze at this thing.”

“There is,” Clarke pointed towards the bar.

“Two drink tickets are not the same as free booze, Griffin.”

“Stop complaining, John.” Emori appeared, handing over a bottle of beer and looping her arm through Murphy’s. Now it was Clarke and Bellamy’s turn to raise their eyebrows suggestively.

“Not a word,” Murphy growled, making Clarke grin.

“I expect a ‘thank you’ at some point.”

“In your dreams.”

Clarke turned to Bellamy. “If I ever dream of Murphy, I give you permission to smother me with a pillow.” 

Bellamy laughed. “If you’re sleeping, how will I know?”

“I guess if I start screaming in horror, you’ll know and can put me out of my misery.”

Bellamy was pretending to think it over, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, when Murphy spoke again.

“Bellamy is going to be jealous if you start screaming my name in bed, Griffin.”

Clarke and Bellamy whipped their heads towards Murphy so fast they almost broke their necks. Under two murderous gazes, he seemed to shrink a little. 

“Oh look, Jasper is calling me,” Murphy said and escaped with Emori while he had the chance.

Alone again. The silence this time was not so comfortable.  

“I’m going to get another drink. You want one?” Bellamy asked. Clarke wasn’t making eye contact.

“No thanks, I, uh, need to go to the bathroom.”

She brushed past him and Bellamy tried to hide his disappointment as he made his way to the bar.

Stupid, stupid. He was so stupid. Fucking Murphy. Why’d he have to go and make things so awkward? And why hadn't Bellamy just made a joke to play it off or something? Dammit. 

They didn’t talk again that night and Bellamy had to leave the show early for work the next morning. Clarke was in a deep conversation with a girl near the table of food, waving her arms wildly. Bellamy didn’t want to interrupt, but Clarke caught him looking and stopped mid motion. Bellamy pointed towards the door, mouthing that he was going to go. Her face dropped, but she nodded and gave him a single wave. 

He said goodbye to Octavia and Lincoln, congratulating him on such a successful night.

“I couldn’t have done it without your sister. Or Clarke,” Lincoln smiled fondly.

“Yeah, well, they boss me around all the time too.”

“Hey!” Octavia cried. “That’s not true.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes. “Goodnight, O. Text me when you guys get home safe.”

Octavia was still complaining that she was _not bossy_ as Bellamy slipped out the door.

 

* * *

 

The next day was hellish for Bellamy. First, it was raining and he forgot an umbrella. Not the worst problem in the world, but it put him in a sour mood right off the bat. Then there was a fire drill that had soaked the students and teachers alike, making the whole school smell like wet dog. He’d forgotten to charge his phone the night before and his charger was still at home. The books in his classroom had been rearranged again, but he hadn’t bothered to put them back this time. And to top it all off, a good chunk of his students had not turned their term papers in. He’d spent hours listening to them come up with excuses, cry, try to talk their way into a later deadline and talk on the phone with their parents. Yes, there will be a penalty for turning it in late. No, I don’t care that your printer broke, I will accept an electronic copy. On and on and on.

So by lunch, Bellamy was ready to sit in his car and blast music until his eardrums bled.

The classroom phone rang.

“Mr. Blake,” he answered roughly.

“Bellamy, there is a visitor here to see you.”

“A visitor? Who?”

“She says she brought you lunch.”

Octavia. Or maybe Raven.

“Thanks Diana, you can send her over.”

“Just take a visitor’s pass, sweetie,” he heard Ms. Sydney say on the other end as he hung up the phone.

The classroom door opened a few minutes later and Bellamy looked up, surprised to see blonde hair not brown.

“Clarke?”

“Hey,” she said, shaking the rain from her coat and setting it on a nearby chair. “I thought you might need a pick me up.”

“A pick me up?”

She ran a hand through her wet, tangled waves and glanced at him.

“Yeah, it’s raining. You always get cranky when it rains.”

Bellamy leaned forward in his desk chair. “I do not!”

Clarke raised an eyebrow and handed over a steaming to-go cup. It smelled like peppermint tea. His favorite.

Bellamy took a sip and tried not to sigh. He didn’t know he’d needed it, but god was it good.

“Plus, you forgot to charge your phone and left your umbrella at home.” 

Clarke took a seat on the desk across from his, swinging her legs and sipping from a cup of her own.

“How do you know that?” 

She grinned and grabbed for her purse, pulling out the charger and umbrella and tossing them onto his desk.

“You left them on the kitchen counter.”

Bellamy stared at the items. “Oh.”

“Mhmm.”

She hopped off the table, placing a delicious smelling paper bag in front of him. He didn’t need to look inside to know what it was- a toasted turkey and avocado panini from the deli down the street. Another of his favorites.

The bag tore as Bellamy opened it, barely removing the paper before taking a bite of the sandwich. Clarke took the opportunity to wander around the classroom, looking at his book titles and posters.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” she said.

“You’ve seen it before,” Bellamy muttered behind a mouthful of food, “Only difference is that some shithead kid keeps messing up my bookshelves.”

“You changed some of the posters.”

She was standing in front of a world map, studying it.

“No, I haven’t.”

Clarke pointed at the wall in front of her. “This is new.”

Bellamy pushed his chair out roughly, wiping his face of crumbs. What was she talking about? He hadn’t touched the posters since hanging them up at the beginning of the year.

He stalked towards Clarke, coming to a full stop and glaring at the poster she was pointing at.

It was a world map. Nothing unusual. But then he blinked and stepped closer. The world was drawn as an oval, like a flattened globe, but the words on the poster were foreign. 

 

_We do not live on a spherical heliocentric world_

_Bedford Level Experiment is proof_

_The Cold War's 'Space Race' was the beginning of an age long government conspiracy._

_The sun moves in circles around the North Pole. When it is over your head, it's day. When it's not, it's night._

_Photos are easily manipulated and serve as inadequate proof of a curved world._

“What the hell?” Bellamy cursed. He moved his eyes to the top of the poster.

In big bold letters it said: **THE EARTH IS FLAT-** _Depicted here is an incorrect representation of Earth as a globe._

“What the fuck!” 

Bellamy pulled the poster from the wall, accidentally ripping it in the top two corners.

“This was a world map!” he cried, perplexed. It looked the exact same as the original poster. The font of the writing was the same, the coloring, everything.

“What about that one?” Clarke asked, pointing to the next poster.

Bellamy tossed the paper to the side and stalked over to his poster of William Wallace, standing on the battlefield in Scotland, raising his weapon and mouth open as he shouted. Bellamy loathed the movie Braveheart for its inaccuracies and when he’d found the poster, he’d been impressed with its _actually_ realistic portrayal. Except, the poster had changed. All of the men were now wearing painted on kilts, like in the movie. Kilts were not a Scottish clothing item until the seventeenth century. 

Bellamy growled and moved onto the next poster. The Vikings were wearing horned helmets, another very common misconception, and he’d worked hard to find a poster than had them with realistic headwear. Yet, here they were, wearing those fucking helmets.

Every poster had been changed, making them completely historically wrong.

George Washington now had wooden teeth.

 _“Be the change you want to see in the world” – Buddha_ (That was Gandhi’s quote, not Buddha!)

_“The Declaration of Independence was created and signed on July 4, 1874”_

His poster of Greek myths had Herakles spelled like 'Hercules' (the Disney version). 

One map had the capital cities labeled incorrectly. Albany was the state capital of New York, not New York City. Annapolis, not Applepolice. Santa Fe, not Santa Claus. Nashville, not Smashville. Boston, not Boobstown. The more he read, the worse it got. 

His list of U.S. Presidents included people like Steve Jobs, Mother Theresa, Martin Luther King Jr… Han Solo? C'mon! 

Most of the posters with quotes were fucked up. Either the words were mixed up or the person who said it was incorrect. 

_"Tell me and I forget. Teach me and I forget. Involve me and I will probably forget." -Benjamin Franklin_

_"Live long and prosper." - Queen Elizabeth I_

_"In the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's how many years you served as President." -Abraham Lincoln_

_"Mama always said life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get." - George Orwell_

_"I find that the harder you work, the less you get done." -Thomas Jefferson_

_"Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer." - John F. Kennedy_

_“You will miss 100% of the shots you take." -Wayne Gretzky_

Everything was wrong, so wrong. By the time Bellamy made it around the room, his head was ready to explode. He barely noticed Clarke in one of the desks, shaking with laughter.

“Oh god,” she wiped away tears, “You should see your face.”

“ _This is not funny_.”

Clarke squealed, collapsing into another fit of laughter.

“This is vandalism!” Bellamy cried. Which one of his students had done this? How had he not noticed? He was going to MURDER someone.

“Clarke, this is not funny!” he barked. She giggled again, but pulled herself together enough to answer.

“I think it’s pretty funny. I couldn’t wait to see your reaction.”

Bellamy strode for the door.

“I’m going to go get Kane-”

But he stopped, his hand frozen on the door handle as he processed what Clarke had just said. Bellamy turned slowly, locking eyes with Clarke who was grinning deliriously.

“What do you mean you couldn’t wait?”

Her grin turned evil. 

“I thought you would notice a lot sooner.”

The memory of coming home to a houseful of labels flashed in Bellamy’s mind. 

His mouth parted. No way. 

Clarke stood, weaving her way around the desks, swinging her hips boldly. 

In the middle of the room, she stopped. Bellamy let go of the door handle and moved towards her until a desk pressed into his hips. It was the only thing separating them.

“You did this,” he said darkly.

Clarke flipped a piece of hair out of her face, but didn’t reply.

“How?” his voice rumbled.  

“It was easy. You were too worried about your messed up books to think about anything else.”

“What? When? You were at work. How did you-”

“Madi,” Clarke supplied. “She’s pretty creative, you know. Helped me come up with some ideas for the posters and she’s the one who suggested screwing with your books as a distraction.”

Bellamy’s eyes darkened and he leaned forward, pressing his hands into the desk. Clarke mirrored his stance, placing her hands right next to his.

“You were so busy playing stupid pranks on me, you weren’t paying attention to the bigger picture.”

Bellamy scoffed and Clarke continued. “You put toothpaste in the Oreos and said it was Raven. You recorded Disney princess movies over my shows! You pretend there are spiders in the room just to see me freak out! You changed the app on my phone that sends me fun facts, so that they are _wrong_ and everyone looks at me weird when I repeat them! You set my alarm so that is doesn’t turn off unless I do a math equation. People honked at me for a whole week and I couldn’t figure out why until I looked at the back of my car and it said ‘Honk for a good time!’”

Okay, yeah he had done all that childish stuff, but it was funny. Clarke’s reactions were hilarious and he wasn't going to stop until he'd won this war that she'd started months ago. The labels were the beginning. Then, the princess bed spread. Then, her sabotaging his dating life. Bellamy wasn't going to go out a loser. In fact, there were a few other things he’d done that she hadn’t mentioned, but this definitely wasn’t the right time to bring those up. 

“Those things were funny, Clarke, and insignificant. This,” he gestured to the room, “is excessive.”

“You’re just mad I outsmarted you.”

“You didn’t outsmart me,” Bellamy said, exasperated.

“I tricked you. I did exactly what I knew would bother you the most.” She was smirking again, pleased with herself.

“You used a child!”

“She volunteered!”

They were nose to nose now, sharing breaths.

“Admit it, Bellamy. You won all your little victories, but this was the long game and _I win_.”

He clenched his jaw, unwilling to admit defeat. 

Brown eyes bore into hers, filled with fire. Clarke stared back smugly. Neither was willing to look away first. But, something in the room changed. Like an electric current, the air between them became charged.

Bellamy’s eyes dropped to Clarke's lips and her smile fell.

A beat.

There was a loud screech as Bellamy pushed the desk that was between them to the side and it tumbled into the others. Clarke backed away, eyes widening, but he didn’t let her get far. 

His hands came up on either side of her face, holding her in place as he crashed his mouth onto hers. 

Clarke gasped and Bellamy started to pull away when he realized that she was frozen. The panic of him thinking she didn’t want this finally made Clarke move. She grabbed onto his shirtfront, dragging him closer and sealing her mouth to his more firmly. She kissed him hard, putting her whole head into it and nipping at his bottom lip. 

Bellamy groaned and they stumbled backwards, bumping into desks and chairs until Clarke’s back met something solid. She was too lost in the kiss to realize that something was digging into the small of her back, but Bellamy ran his hand down behind her and rested it there, protecting her from the sharp edgde of the chalkboard.

He ran his tongue along her lip and Clarke opened her mouth to him, moaning. Her body was on fire, buzzing from head to toe. She lifted one of her legs and wrapped it around his waist, trying to get as close to Bellamy as possible. He tasted like peppermint and smelled like rain and a faint cologne. The muscles of his chest and arms were taunt compared to her soft curves and breasts. 

Bellamy made a sound in the back of his throat and shifted his hips forward, pressing hard and solid against her core. Heat rushed between Clarke’s legs and she was just about to lift her other leg, hoping Bellamy would get the idea and pick her up, when the bell rang.

Bellamy wrenched back and Clarke unclawed her fingers from where they were attached to his shirt, flexing them to relieve the stiffness. Their lips were wet and faces flushed. Clarke didn’t want to think about the thrum between her legs right now. Or the bulge between his.

She cursed herself for not running her hands through his hair when she'd had the chance. She loved his curls.

Lockers slammed. Chatter in the hallway became louder. Footsteps. Laughter. An adult yelling for someone to stop running.

The students would be here any minute.

“Why did you do that?” Clarke asked, breathing hard.

Bellamy wasn’t moving, even though they had basically trashed the desks on this side of his room. 

Clarke stopped fussing with her hair to meet his eyes and was startled to find how _honest_ he looked. How open and vulnerable. It wasn't the look that scared her most. No, it was that that look was directed at her. Bellamy was looking at her like she was the most important thing in the world. 

“You’re my long game, Clarke,” he said softly.

Her breath hitched.

The classroom door banged open and students flooded in.

Clarke jumped into motion, finding her way around the kids and grabbing her coat. She didn’t look back as she escaped into the noisy hallway. She didn’t even notice until she was in her car that she’d carried her coat instead of wearing it and was now soaked to the bone.

When she got back to the hospital, she couldn't remember driving there. All she could remember were Bellamy's eyes- intense and wide and sincere... 


	21. Chapter 21

Clarke Avoidance Griffin. That’s what her parents should have named her. It would have been a whole lot more accurate. 

After the kiss, she took an extra shift at the hospital and decided to sleep there for the night. Two mornings later she woke up early and left hours before Bellamy’s alarm was even set to go off. She had two missed calls from him, but only replied with a brief ‘Sorry, busy.’ 

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to Bellamy. She did. Clarke just didn’t know what to say.

_You’re my long game, Clarke._

It confused her. He’d said it so earnestly, that she couldn’t do much more than gulp. Even though her brain was screaming at her to say something back. Anything.

Long game.

She didn’t understand. Did Bellamy kiss her as part of their prank war? Was his ultimate trick to fuck with her head? No, he wasn’t that cruel. But he was competitive.

Clarke was lost in her own thoughts. She was spiraling- she knew it but she didn’t know how to stop it. So, Clarke did what she did best and decided to avoid the situation entirely.

And the worst part was, Bellamy let her.

He had stayed up late that night, waiting for her to get home. But she never did and his heart had cracked a little.

He’d called her and she hadn’t called him back. Not unusual, but after that day in his classroom… it wasn’t a good sign.

He was awake, facing his bedroom ceiling, when she tiptoed around the kitchen in the morning and snuck out. And his heart spilt right open.

Bellamy cursed himself for being so naïve. How could he have thought that maybe they would have a shot together? And now, his worst fear was becoming a reality. He was losing his best friend.

He should have never kissed her. He should never have said what he said. He should have just kept his mouth shut and told Raven and Octavia to mind their own business. Maybe then, he and Clarke would be having an argument about what movie to watch instead of her sneaking out so she didn’t have to see him.

This kind of thinking was how Bellamy ended up at the Ark at four in the afternoon on a Thursday. By five he was hammered. By five thirty, Murphy had called Miller.

“Hey, man.”

Bellamy didn’t turn towards the low voice.

Miller slid into the nearby bar stool, beckoning Murphy over and ordering one of whatever Bellamy was having.

“What are you doing here?” Bellamy slurred.

Murphy poured the shot glass full and slid it forward. 

“I came to drink. Just like you.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes and slammed the rest of his whiskey.

“You’re lying, Miller. I know Murphy called you.”

Miller shrugged and took a sip of the dark liquid.

“Another,” Bellamy growled and pushed his empty glass forward. But Murphy didn’t move to refill it.

“I’m not giving you another until you tell us what’s going on,” Murphy said.

“Fuck off,” Bellamy waived his hand dramatically. “Nothing’s going on.” 

Sure, Bellamy drank when they went out but he rarely got this drunk. And he certainly didn’t drink in the middle of a weekday.

“You can either tell us what’s wrong or I’ll call Clarke and ask her,” Miller stated. If anyone knew what was wrong with Bellamy, it would be Clarke. Unless of course the problem _was_ Clarke…

Bellamy’s silence was all the answer the two men needed.

“I’m too sober to deal with this shit,” Murphy grunted and took a shot straight from the bottle.

Bellamy dropped his head into his hands and spoke, his voice muffled by his palms, “I kissed her and now she’s avoiding me.”

Miller and Murphy exchanged a worried glance.

Miller cleared his throat. “Did she say anything? After you kissed her?”

Bellamy shook his head and the dread grew. 

“Don’t take it personally,” Murphy said. Bellamy jerked his head up.

Don’t take it personally? Of course it was personal! He had poured his heart out to the girl and she had run the other way. And after that kiss… well, what else was he supposed to do? It was the best kiss he’d ever had. The sound of Clarke’s soft moaning and the way she had grabbed him like she was afraid to lose him had plagued Bellamy’s thoughts for days. 

Bellamy thought Clarke had been on the same page as him, just as consumed by him as he was by her. But apparently he’d been wrong.

Murphy’s jaw clenched. “Clarke has had it rough, okay? I’m not surprised she ran. I would, if I was her.”

Bellamy was ready to jump over the bar and strangle Murphy, but Miller cut it, saving the day. “What are you saying, Murphy?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this. It’s going to sound so fucking cheesy,” Murphy took another drink, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, “Clarke is used to being left by the people she loves. She’s probably just scared, man.”

Bellamy was too busy seething to really soak up the words. The cloud of alcohol around his brain wasn’t helping either.

 Miller was staring at Murphy strangely.

“I think Murphy’s right.”

“What?” Bellamy slurred. “Murphy’s never right.”

“Thanks, Blake.”

“I don’t think Clarke would run away unless it was for a reason, Bellamy,” Miller said rationally. “Think about it. Her dad died, her mom kicked her out, Wells died, Finn cheated…”

“Her reason was she doesn’t like me like that,” Bellamy pouted. 

“That’s bullshit,” Murphy said. “Clarke likes you almost as much as you like her.”

Wait a second. Almost? What the hell did that mean? 

For the first time, Bellamy made eye contact with the two men.

Were they right? Was Clarke just scared? 

“I think I fucked up our friendship.” 

The heartbreak in Bellamy’s voice was clear. He was an all or nothing sort of guy and when he put his heart into something, he didn’t do it halfway. He was a goner for Clarke and her running had hurt him more than he cared to admit. 

Miller and Murphy spent the next hour trying to talk Bellamy off the ledge he’d put himself on, until eventually Miller drove him home. 

He was going to regret all this drinking when he woke up with a hangover the next morning and had to go to work. But at least he felt a little better about the situation with Clarke. Now all he had to do was get her to talk to him.

 

* * *

 

 

Trivia Night was a new thing at the Ark. They had only been doing it for a few weeks now, but it drew in customers and had gone off without a hitch so far. Murphy had come up with the idea months ago after he watched Clarke and Bellamy face off in an intense game of Trivial Pursuit. There was snarling and cursing and thrown cards and it was a wonder no blood had been drawn.

Anyway, Trivia Night was tonight and everyone was expected to be there. Raven was even bringing her new friend, some guy who’s car she had fixed after he had tried to do it himself and failed miserably. Octavia and Lincoln were coming, even though there wedding was in two weeks and they still had major planning to do. No one had heard from Clarke, but they’d all sent her texts and threats (Raven and Octavia) about what would happen if she didn’t show.

Murphy was working the bar tonight alongside a new bartender, Maya. Bellamy and Miller showed up early to help him set up the microphone and scoreboard.

The night was in full swing, already two rounds into the trivia questions, when Clarke showed. Raven was the first one to see her.

“Oh shit,” Raven said, but everyone ignored her, too focused on remembering the name of the twentieth president. Bellamy, Emori, Octavia, and Jasper’s team already had an answer thanks to Bellamy’s endless vault of historical facts.

Clarke went for the bar first and Murphy took her order, not even looking up or recognizing her at first. When he handed over the long island, he froze.

“Clarke?”

“Murphy,” she nodded and slid over a five. The bill sat on the bar, forgotten, as Murphy watched Clarke walk towards the tables, his mouth agape. 

Clarke slid into the seat next to Raven, just as the answer was revealed and the crowd cried out in a mix of frustration and excitement.

“Who do I need to kill?” Raven said to the blonde and finally the others noticed Clarke’s arrival.

She wasn’t met with the usual greetings or hugs, only silent stares. 

Octavia’s drink froze halfway to her mouth and Lincoln's eyes widened to dinner plates.

Bellamy was too enthralled in the next question to notice anything else, until Octavia swept past him so fast she almost knocked him off the chair.

“What the hell, O!” he cried, but his anger cut short when he saw where she was headed.

Without a word, Octavia put her face inches from Clarke’s. 

“I’m fine, Octavia.”

“Who did this?”

Clarke flinched and scooted back as far as she could. Her eyes were swimming, but they didn’t dare meet Bellamy’s. They couldn’t, for fear of seeing his reaction.

“My hairdresser,” Clarke joked, but it came out wobbly.

It was true, she had gotten a hair cut. A major one. Her once long golden waves were cut short, choppy around her jaw and the tips dyed pink. Part of her was hoping that the new hair would distract everyone from her face, but no such luck.

By now, a trivia question had been asked and the answer revealed, and both teams had lost points for not submitting a guess. 

“ _Clarke_.”

She would recognize the deep timber of that voice anywhere. 

“ _Clarke, look at me_.”

Reluctantly, she did.

Bellamy stood a few feet away, body taunt. He looked ready to kill, his eyes dancing in fury and jaw clenched white.

Taking the hint, Octavia took a step back to allow room for her brother.

Bellamy strode forward and caught Clarke’s jaw in his hand before she could look away again. A hiss of pain left her lips and Bellamy loosened his grip a fraction.

“What happened?” Bellamy asked darkly as he inspected the splotchy bruises and her busted lip.

“I’m fine.” Clarke attempted to pull away, but the hold on her jaw was too tight.

“That’s not what I asked.” 

Unable to help it, Clarke shivered. If Bellamy noticed, he didn’t comment. 

His anger was doing something to her, something she couldn’t describe. It wasn't directed at her. No, Bellamy was mad _for_ her. It reminded Clarke of the way Bellamy had reacted to Finn. Standing up for her. Protecting her. 

“It was a patient. He was drunk and I… I just got in the way.”

Bellamy let her jaw go, but didn’t back away. The cologne he wore pricked at her nose and Clarke was tempted to shift forward and get a better whiff. 

He eyed her suspiciously. “Got in the way or _put_ yourself in the way?”

Dammit, why did he always have to do that? How in the hell did Bellamy always know when Clarke was lying?

“He was going after his girlfriend,” Clarke said simply, “Right there, in the middle of the Emergency Room.” 

“They have security for that kind of thing, Clarke.”

She crossed her arms. “Well security wasn’t there and you didn’t see her, Bellamy. She looked ten times worse than I do and she was terrified!”

His features darkened.

Everyone was too enthralled with the interaction between Clarke and Bellamy to notice the man with the microphone asking if they were still playing.

“Just give us a damn minute!” Octavia snapped.

Clarke glanced around at all of her friends, suddenly embarrassed.

“Anyone going to say they like my hair?”

Clarke Avoidance _Deflect_ Griffin.

“I was going to actually, but Bellamy is sort of blocking my view,” Emori joked. 

“Yeah, you look hot, Griffin. The red matches your split lip,” Jasper called and instantly quailed under Bellamy’s glare. 

Clarke smiled, and tossed her short locks about for a moment. "Thanks, Jas. That's what I was going for."

“Did you cut your hair before or after?” Raven asked curiously.

“Why?” Clarke asked, suddenly defensive. Raven's eyes narrowed. Something was turning in her brain and it didn't bode well for Clarke.

Octavia seemed to catch on. “Answer the question, Clarke.” 

“Before. Happy?” Clarke snapped.

Raven and Octavia shared a look. 

Clarke huffed. “Why does it matter?”

No longer interested, half the group had gone back to trivia. Octavia, Raven, Bellamy and Miller kept their attention on Clarke.

“You cut your hair before you got punched. Which means that something else happened,” Raven explained.

“I’m not allowed to cut my hair without there being a reason?” 

“You are,” Octavia shrugged. “But you only change your hair when something big happens, Clarke."

“It was red after the Finn fiasco and you had those weird dreads after Wells,” Raven thought out loud.

“It was brown for a while in high school,” Miller added and Clarke shot him a look. She’d dyed it brown right after her father had died.

“So?” Clarke was trying really hard to act indifferent, but it was near impossible when Bellamy was burning a hole in her skull.

“So, something must have happened that made you cut your hair.”

“Yeah, spill, Griffin,” Octavia prodded.

Clarke ground her teeth together, pointedly avoiding Bellamy’s gaze. She’d cut her hair after they’d kissed, so what?

“I need another drink,” Clarke said and startled both girls by dropping down and crawling past them. There was no way she was getting out of there with both of them standing in front of her.

“We are going to talk about this later, Clarke!” Raven shouted across the room. 

Clarke ignored her and when she got to the bar, Murphy was already handing her a drink. Weird. 

“You’re going to need it,” he explained and Clarke was confused, until she felt a presence at her back.

Murphy winked and Clarke downed half the drink before she dared turn around. 

“Can we talk?” Bellamy asked, his eyes still glued to her black eye.

The anger that had been so blatant a moment ago was replaced by something else. Hurt? Nerves? Clarke couldn't tell. 

Hesitantly, Clarke nodded. She knew this was bound to happen when she showed up looking the way she did. And it was time she stopped running away from her problems anyway.

“Outside?” she suggested. 

Bellamy nodded and followed her out the door into the foggy night’s air.


	22. Chapter 22

“I’m not going to apologize for standing up for that girl, so if we came out here so you could yell at me, think again.”

Bellamy was looking down at her, his face unreadable. A car passed, shining a light on them both and Clarke caught a glimpse of his dark eyes before it was back to shadows.

“I’m not going to yell at you.”

“Good,” Clarke snapped and crossed her arms.

She was acting so defensive, so petulant, but even she didn’t know why.

“Can you just,” Bellamy took a deep breath, “Can you just tell me what happened? The whole story.”

The distress in his voice had Clarke losing her attitude. He wasn’t going to be happy when she told him the whole story, but something told her he wasn’t going to stop bugging her until she did.

“The girl came in first. You could tell she was shaken, she’d been crying, and her arm,” Clarke grimaced, remembering, “It was broken in three places. I wasn’t even supposed to be in the Emergency Room, I was just there for a consult, but then this guy comes in. He’s screaming about some ‘bitch hitting him with a fucking lamp’ and there was blood all over his face and he was obviously drunk. I was there, so I went to check out the girl’s arm while the nurses tried to calm him down. I’ve never seen someone look so scared, Bellamy. She tried to hide behind a curtain and I couldn’t figure out what she was doing, but then the yelling stopped. He’d seen her. Luna tried to stop him, but he pushed her into a medical cart and I…”

Clarke trailed off. Bellamy’s fingernails were biting into the palms of his hands. He already knew how the rest of this story went. In true Clarke fashion, she’d put herself in front of him.

“I did what I had to do,” Clarke finished. But it wasn’t that simple, not to Bellamy.

“What did he do?”

Clarke took a shuddery breath. “He tried to push me away, but I’d seen him shove Luna and expected it. When I didn’t get out of the way, he pushed me harder. I grabbed a tray and tried to hit him with it, but I missed and it just made him more angry.”

She could almost hear Bellamy’s teeth grinding together, painfully hard. 

“He hit me,” Clarke stated, unfazed.

“Once?” Bellamy asked far too calmly for the white-hot rage that was building inside him. 

“Twice. And kicked me in the ribs a few times before someone could pull him back.” 

Bellamy stepped back, unable to look at her face any longer. Every mark was evidence that Clarke had been hit, beaten. That asshole had knocked her to the ground and then _kicked her._

Bellamy ran both hands into his hair, forcing out a harsh breath. The urge to punch the wall was growing. He wished he’d been there to protect her. He wished Clarke wasn’t always trying to be the damn hero.

“I’m okay, Bellamy,” her voice was small. After a pause, there was a soft touch on his shoulder. He looked down at her hand, trying to control the emotions cascading through him.

“Don’t lie to me.”

Her eyes searched his in the barely there light.

“I’m okay,” she repeated, voice a little quieter.

Under Bellamy’s unrelenting stare, Clarke’s mask finally cracked.

“I was scared, okay?” her voice broke, “I was so scared, Bell.” 

And then he was there, wrapping her into his warm but strong embrace. “It’s okay, Clarke. You’re okay. I got you.”

She shuddered in his arms, attempting to stifle the sobs and ignoring the pain in her side. Bellamy’s head rested on top of hers as he continued to whisper comforting things. 

Eventually, her crying stopped and they just stood there, wrapped together.

“I can’t believe you did that. He could have killed you,” Bellamy growled. 

“I couldn’t let him hurt her.”

“You could have let someone else stop him,” he said, but they both knew that wasn’t a choice. Not for Clarke.

“Can we go home?” she whispered into his chest. Bellamy’s arms tightened briefly before stepping away and she immediately missed his solidness.

“I’ll go get my keys.”

Clarke nodded and wrapped her arms around her middle. The door to the Ark opened as a couple stumbled out and down the sidewalk. Bellamy caught the door before it could close and held it, giving her a long look before rushing back inside. It was only a minute before he strode back out.

“Did they say anything?” Clarke asked. 

There was no way her friends would just let them leave without asking where they were going, or at least voicing their assumptions.

“It doesn’t matter,” Bellamy said gruffly, leading her towards where he had parked. Clarke was glad she had decided to walk to the bar instead of drive. That way, she didn’t have to come back for her car in the morning.

They got all the way back to the apartment without speaking.

Bellamy tossed his keys on the foyer table and headed for the kitchen. “Do you want something to eat?”

“Sure.” Clarke took a seat on one of the bar stools and watched him work.

Eggs, flour, milk, butter. Clarke got lost in the sight of his muscular back moving beneath the grey shirt and she didn’t realize he’d spoken.

“Huh?”

Bellamy looked over his shoulder, smirking. “I said do you want blueberries or chocolate chips?”

Pancakes. He was making pancakes.

“Blueberries,” Clarke said, resting her chin in her hand and trying to hide a blush.

Bellamy retrieved the fruit and went back to the warming pan.

“Have you been eating?”

Clarke shrugged. She had and she hadn’t. There wasn’t much variety at the hospital vending machines and you could only drink so much coffee. “Yeah.” 

Bellamy snorted, shaking his head. He knew her too well.

“So, are you done avoiding me?” he said and flipped a pancake.

When she didn’t reply, Bellamy spun and they locked eyes.

It was pointless for her to lie.

Something sizzled and Bellamy turned back to the stove, moving the pancake to the plate and started cooking another.

He didn’t turn back around until two plates were full. Clarke watched as he poured a glass of orange juice and slid it, one plate, and a fork in front of her.

He set the other plate on the counter below the bar, not bothering to sit down, and began digging in. Clarke followed his lead, scarfing down two pancakes and rinsing them down with juice. They’d never eat like this before, right across from each other but separated by the counter. 

“I’m sorry,” she said.

The fork froze inches from his mouth.

“I freaked out and… and I’m just sorry.”

Bellamy gulped and dropped his chin to the plate. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have done what I did.”

That stung. Bellamy regretted it. Fuck, she should have realized. There were many things Clarke felt after kissing Bellamy, but regret was not one of them. She tried not to show her hurt.

“Why did you?”

Bellamy glanced up, looking at her under thick lashes. “It was a heat of the moment thing. I was worked up about the posters and you were just there.”

Clarke flinched.

_She was just there._

Would he have kissed anyone that was just _there?_

“Fuck, that’s not what I meant. I mean that you were so close and fuck,” he cursed again. This wasn’t coming out right. Best shut up before he made it any worse. 

Clarke chewed her lip. It was time to be honest, with him and her self. If Bellamy didn’t feel the same, then oh well. Pain was nothing new. 

“I wanted you to.”

Bellamy’s eyes widened, certain he’d heard her wrong. 

“You did?”

Clarke glanced at the wall, suddenly shy. “Yes, but afterwards, when the bell rang… I panicked.”

“Because you thought it was a mistake?” The devastation in Bellamy’s tone was unmistakable.

Clarke’s gaze sharpened and she willed herself to meet his eye. “No, I was confused.” 

“About what?”

“You said it was a game. You said _I_ was a game,” she said behind gritted teeth, forcing back the tears that threatened to fall. 

His brow furrowed, recalling that day. _You’re my long game, Clarke._

She thought this was all part of their stupid prank war? Clarke thought that him kissing her was a joke? A trick?

It was anything but.

“That is not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” her voice was shriller than intended.

Bellamy took a step forward, getting as close to Clarke as possible, even with the big slab of granite between them. He didn’t want any more miscommunication between them. She needed to know how he felt.

“You were talking about all the stupid pranks I did to piss you off- little victories, you called them- and what I was trying to say was that you are not one of them. You’re not a little victory for me, Clarke. Kissing you was not meant to be a stunt.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No,” he said without hesitation. “Do you?”

“No.”

They were too far away- separated by half eaten plates and a countertop- to do anything more than stare at each other. 

The sound of Clarke’s barstool sliding back set Bellamy into motion. She rounded the counter at the same time he did and they stopped, a foot apart.

“This isn’t a game to me, Clarke. And if you don’t feel the same way, tell me now. I cant- you can’t run away again. I won’t be able to take it.” 

“I thought you were trying to get in my head, trying to get back at me for your classroom or something. I should have talked to you instead of assuming.”

Bellamy stepped forward and Clarke had to lift her chin to keep his face in sight.  

“Like I said, you’re my long game. You’re it for me, princess.”

Something wedged itself in Clarke’s chest and for a moment she couldn’t breath.

“I won’t run.”

It felt like a promise. 

"You better not."

Unable to resist, Clarke looked at his mouth. He was so close to her and smelled so good, like blueberries and that damn cologne that drove her crazy.

Bellamy lifted a hand, delicately running a thumb over her bruised cheek and she flicked her eyes back to his.

This time, Clarke had to make the first move. Bellamy shifted so he was inches away, mouth so close she could feel his breath on her lips, but then he waited. All Clarke needed to do was lift her head. 

Something about this moment was so _final,_ like it had always been inevitable, even though it was just the beginning. It felt _right_ and Clarke allowed herself a minute to soak up that feeling.

And then she moved, brushing her lips against Bellamy’s with the barest of touches. He didn’t respond at first, giving her the chance to pull back. When she didn’t, he let out a shaky breath and pressed his lips more firmly against hers.

It was softer than before, but just as passionate. Bellamy wrapped one large hand behind her neck and Clarke didn't waste the opportunity to run her fingers through his curls. God, she'd wanted to do that for months. 

Their hands wandered and their mouths became more frantic. Clarke darted her tongue out and nibbled at his lip. Bellamy retaliated by pushing her into the nearest wall. It must be a thing for him, pinning her against solid objects, but Clarke didn't mind. And she definitely didn't mind when Bellamy started trailing his lips down her jaw, near her ear, down her neck.  

"Oh," she moaned when he sucked a particularly soft part of her throat. 

Bellamy's cock twitched. 

"Do that again," Clarke demanded and Bellamy chuckled, but followed the order.

His hands found their way under her shirt, touching her skin featherlight, and cupping a breast over her bra. She was nowhere near as gentle, yanking on his hair when he did something she liked, or digging her fingernails into his back when he finally got her shirt off and moved her bra aside to put his mouth on her nipple. 

She arched against the wall, urging him on and Bellamy's pants were becoming painfully tight. 

"Bedroom," she gasped when he switched to the other breast, "Bedroom, now, Bell." 

He unhooked her bra and tossed it to the side, lifting his head to kiss her once more.

"Yours or mine?" he said against her lips. Clarke pressed her chest against his and Bellamy grabbed her behind the thighs, yanking her up so she was trapped between him and the wall. He couldn't help but shift his hips forward, pressing into her center.

Clarke moaned and ground against him, trying to get more friction. 

"You gotta decide, princess. Otherwise, I'm just going to fuck you against this wall."

That didn't sound like the worst idea to Clarke, but they needed to do this right. She tore her mouth away from his, glancing at her bedroom door and then his. 

His room. Where Echo had slept. Where he'd brought home countless girls for the first few months they had lived together.

Bellamy seemed to read Clarke's mind, because he tightened his hold on her legs and started towards the bedroom with the princess sign on the door. 

"That's not what this is, Clarke," he whispered in her ear as she clung to him. 

"I know," she said and started sucking on his neck evilly. Bellamy groaned, but when they got to her door, he stopped and pulled back. She pulled back too, startled by the seriousness in his features. 

"Bellamy, _I know_." 

This wasn't a one night stand. Bellamy wasn't going to kick her out in the morning or never talk to her again. Clarke wasn't like the other girls, not even Echo. 

He searched her face, nodding when he was sure that she knew this was different. 

They tumbled into her room and Bellamy almost lost his balance when he kicked the door shut behind them. At her urging, Bellamy let Clarke drop to the ground, but her hands were instantly on him, pulling his shirt off, kissing his chest, yanking at his belt. 

Just as fervent, Bellamy brought his hands to her waistband, yanking the pair of leggings down, and walking forward until the back of Clarke's knees bumped into the bed. She kicked her pants off and grabbed onto Bellamy's bicep, dragging him down to the mattress on top of her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued.....


	23. Chapter 23

Bellamy allowed Clarke to pull him to the bed, but caught himself before he got too close, hands on either side of her head and hovering.

He couldn’t see much in the dark, but Clarke’s pale skin was glowing, her chest was rising and falling rapidly and she was bitching at him about hurrying up. They’d barely started and Bellamy didn’t want this to end. He leaned down, giving her a soft kiss as his hand traced a pattern on the top of her thigh.

 “Bell,” she whined, wiggling beneath him.

“Yes, Clarke?”

 She gave his curls a sharp tug. “Touch me, please.”

 “You gotta tell me where, princess,” he murmured against her neck and slid his hand to her inner thigh. Clarke’s legs parted instinctively.

Clarke had imagined this moment all sorts of ways. Rough with hair pulling and back scratching. Soft and sweet with whispered praise. Even sloppy and awkward from nerves. What she hadn’t imagined was Bellamy being a fucking tease. 

He wanted her to tell him what she wanted? Fine.

“Bellamy Blake,” she snapped, “If you don’t make me come so hard around your dick I’m screaming, I’ll get up right now and find someone who will.”

The hand on her leg stopped and Bellamy pulled his head up from where he’d been sucking on her collarbone.

Stunned. That was the only way to describe what Bellamy was feeling. He’d never in a million years expected such dirty words to fall from Clarke Griffin’s mouth. And he’d never been so turned on in his life. 

“You sure you know what you’re asking for?” Bellamy asked darkly. Clarke shivered, but even in the dark he could see her raise a challenging eyebrow. 

“You sure you can deliver?”

He didn’t waste another moment. Bellamy yanked Clarke’s panties down with one hand and used the other to swipe two long fingers across her folds. She gasped, but Bellamy continued, easily finding her center and collecting the wetness that had pooled there. He barely gave a warning before pushing his fingers inside of her. 

Clarke’s hips lifted and Bellamy shifted forward, covering more of her body with his and forcing her pelvis back into the bed. His fingers stayed deep inside of her, unmoving aside from small little twists.

“Bell,” she whimpered.

“You okay?”

She nodded and Bellamy smiled, giving her a chaste kiss and _finally_ moving his fingers. He wasn’t nice about it, but Clarke was shivering in minutes. He brought the thumb of his other hand onto her clit, which had been pulsing with need, and she almost came right there.

“That’s it,” he whispered when her cunt clenched around his thrusting fingers. “You feel so good, Clarke. So tight.”

“I’m gonna-” her sentence fell off when he latched onto her nipple, sucking hard.

“Oh god,” she cried and her nails dug into the meat of his shoulders, grasping at anything to stay grounded.

The tight knot between her legs was winding itself higher and higher, until finally-

Bellamy pulled his hands away. A sound close to a sob escaped Clarke’s throat. 

“Why’d you stop?” she gasped, lifting her head to see what had caused such an abrupt halt. She’d been so close. God, she’d been close. Her cunt was still throbbing, harder now than before. She could feel the wetness dripping down her thighs. All she needed was a few more thrusts, a few more circles of her clit, and she would have been there.

In the next instant, Bellamy was back, crowding her against the mattress. Clarke was about to ask again why he’d stopped when she felt something hard brush against her stomach. His boxers were gone, tossed to the ground when she wasn’t looking.

“You said you wanted to come around my dick, princess. I’m just following orders.”

“I didn’t say I couldn’t come on your fingers _first_.” 

He chucked evilly. Clarke reached down, grabbing the base of his cock and guiding him forward. He groaned as she lightly stroked him. Shit, he was big. Bigger than she’d ever been with. Bellamy seemed to know that she needed to ease into it, because he moved her hand away and replaced it with his own. Slowly, he drug his cock through her folds, giving her clit a little extra attention with a few measured taps.

He lined himself up with her opening and pushed in just a little.

“I’m okay, Bell,” Clarke whispered. “Keep going.”

He nodded and pushed a little further. But she was just so fucking wet and he ended up sliding all the way in, filling her to the core.

Clarke gasped and Bellamy tried not to groan at how hot and wet and tight she was around him. 

“Shit, Clarke, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” He tried not to move, scared to hurt her more.

“Fuck, Bellamy,” she groaned and twisted beneath him. “You feel so good.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and pulled out the slightest inch, only to thrust back forward slowly. Clarke’s breath shuddered in pleasure and Bellamy took that as a sign she wasn’t hurting.

“You feel good, Clarke?” he murmured, snapping his hips a little harder.

Her hands reached forward, for him, and Bellamy caught both, interlacing their fingers.

“So good. I feel so full. Please, Bell, _harder_.” 

God, she sounded wrecked. Bellamy obliged her plea.

By the time he was really fucking her, Clarke was a mess. Her skin was slick with sweat and the slick from her cunt was dripping down both their thighs. The room was filled with the sound of her moans and his deep grunts. Her body seemed to have a mind of its own as she writhed on the bed. Bellamy let one of her hands go and she instantly reached between her legs. With a growl, he swatted it away and replaced it with his own. 

“How’s that?” he cooed as his finger circled her clit purposely.

Clarke said something close to, “Good, more, please, don’t stop.”

He felt her insides flutter and slowed his hips, instead giving her deep, hard thrusts that were sure to send her over the edge.

“Bell.”

“I got you, princess. Come.”

She did, shattering around him, and Bellamy barely pulled out in time, his own climax ripping through him from the force of hers.

He kept pressure on her clit, making sure to work her all the way through the orgasm, as his own hot cum shot onto her stomach.

Spent, he dropped his head to her shoulder and Clarke caught her breath, her body still twitching in aftershocks. After a moment, Bellamy sat up, not wanting to smother her.

“Fuck,” Clarke said.

Bellamy ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, fuck.”

She stretched out a leg, stiff from being bent.

“Hold still,” Bellamy said and made his way to the bathroom to get a rag. When he got back, Clarke’s bedside lamp was on but she was still naked, sprawled on the bed.

Bellamy’s throat went dry. Sure, they’d just had sex. Amazing sex. But he hadn’t actually gotten to look at her. Not really. Clarke was beautiful, that wasn’t news. But seeing her naked, in bed, covered in his cum. Fuck it was a whole new kind of beautiful.

“Here,” Bellamy said awkwardly and handed the rag over. He found his boxers and pulled them on while Clarke wiped her stomach clean.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bellamy saw her flinch.

He straightened. “What’s wrong?”

Clarke moved to her elbows, attempting to sit up, but flinched again.

“Clarke?”

“I’m fine,” she waved him off. “Just sore.”

Then Bellamy saw it. The smattering of bruises wasn’t just on her face, it was on her ribs as well. In the past hour, he’d completely forgotten about the attack, about Clarke’s injured body. Unaware of where Bellamy’s attention was, Clarke slid off the bed and reached for a piece of clothing on the ground.

“Why didn’t you tell me I was hurting you?”

Clarke pulled his t-shirt over her head, her hair full of static when it popped out. “What?”

“Your ribs. We just-” he gestured to the bed, “I wouldn’t have been so rough. I completely forgot about you being hurt. Fuck, Clarke, why didn’t you say something?”

“Bellamy, I’m fine,” she rolled her eyes. “I didn’t even feel it until we were done. I promise.”

“You sure?” 

Clarke stepped forward, grabbing both of his cheeks in her hands. “I’m sure. I was too distracted to feel the pain anyways.” 

She gave him a quick peck and Bellamy thought maybe that was his favorite kiss yet. Simple, sweet, natural. 

“If you’re sure…” he said skeptically and Clarke just rolled her eyes again.

“I’m going to take a shower. Care to join?” 

Bellamy’s eye raked over her body, just now noticing that she was wearing his shirt. Not waiting for an answer, Clarke made her way to the bathroom. Seeing Clarke in his shirt, post sex, did something to Bellamy and he really wanted to see her walk around the apartment like that. But more than that, he wanted to see her naked again, soapy and soft and wet.

It was ten minutes into the shower that Clarke froze. Bellamy was standing behind her, kissing her neck and rubbing soap into her back. She’d already done the same for him, and shampooed his hair. That wonderful hair. 

“Oh my god,” Clarke whispered.

That wasn’t an ‘Oh my god, this feels so good.’ It was more of an ‘Oh my god, what have we done?’

Bellamy had seen this coming. Clarke had been too relaxed, too giddy after sex to really _think_ about what had just happened. Bellamy knew it would only be a matter of time before her overactive brain caught up with them.

“Clarke, don’t freak out,” he said.

“Oh my god,” Clarke repeated and leaned forward so that both her hands were resting on the shower wall. Bellamy wanted to see her face, her eyes. At least then, maybe he could get a gauge of how badly she panicking.

“Clarke, please look at me,” Bellamy begged.

She spun, droplets from her hair slapping him in the face even though they were already under the stream of water. Her eyes were wide, like she’d seen a ghost.

“This, what we’re doing, it-“

Bellamy’s heart sank.

“It... I, I need a minute," she stuttered

He expected Clarke to bolt from the shower, but instead she stayed standing, staring at him.

That was a good sign at least. Hopefully. 

“Okay,” he agreed and took a step back until his ass hit the cold tile. Clarke tracked his movements, but didn’t speak. Water ran down her hair, through her face, but she made no move to wipe it away.

 _Don’t run, don’t run, don’t run,_ Bellamy silently pleaded. 

“I’m not running,” Clarke finally said and Bellamy wondered if he’d spoken out loud. “But, I am going to get out of the shower and I’m going to…” she trailed off. What was she going to do? Call Raven, Octavia, her mom? What was someone supposed to do when they slept with their best friend and basically confessed feelings without actually confessing feelings? She didn’t know why she was freaking out. She didn’t want to be. But here she was, losing her mind two feet away from the most handsome man she had ever seen with the biggest heart she had ever known. 

Bellamy’s face cracked. “I know you’re going to need time, Clarke. It’s fine. Just, please, don’t leave.”

A tear slipped out of his eye on the last word and Clarke’s heart thudded.

“I’m not leaving, I promise. I’m just going to my room.”

Bellamy nodded and Clarke held his eye for another few seconds before jumping out of the shower and escaping.

When he heard her bedroom door shut, Bellamy turned off the shower, slowly padding to his own room for a night of restless sleep.


	24. Chapter 24

An alarm blaring woke Bellamy up. Well, it made him open his eyes. He hadn’t actually been sleeping. The alarm kept ringing and Bellamy groaned and rolled out of bed to go turn the damn thing off.

He opened his door at the same time Clarke tumbled out of hers.

Pillows, blankets, books and cushions went flying around the room as they searched, both of their eyes blurry with sleep.

By the time they final found Clarke’s phone under the couch, they were both wide awake.

“God dammit,” Clarke cursed and muted the sound. Silence filled the apartment, but Bellamy’s ears were still ringing.

“How the hell did it get under the couch?” Bellamy asked.

“Must’ve happened last night.”

Oh. Last night. Right.

Bellamy coughed awkwardly and Clarke started throwing the sofa cushions back on the couch like they were pillows.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Clarke muttered, glaring down at her phone.

“It’s fine,” he said, waving it off and returning to his room.

Clarke had asked for time and he was going to give it to her. No matter how much it made his chest ache. And now there was no chance he would be able to sleep. The coffee pot in the kitchen started and he could hear Clarke milling about, getting ready for work.

Bellamy glanced at his bedside clock around eight. He’d never heard the front door open for Clarke to leave, so maybe he’d actually fallen asleep for a few hours.

The smell of coffee drew him out of bed and into the kitchen.

As he trudged by, a lump on the sofa stirred.

Clarke’s blonde hair peeked out from where she was nestled in a blanket, reading a book. One of his books, _To Kill a Mockingbird._  

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” he asked.

“I got put on leave.”

He didn’t step closer, but the bruising on Clarke’s face was still awful. In fact, it had taken on a green tint. Her busted lip looked like it had split open again and Bellamy cursed himself. That had probably happened last night. He’d been too rough with her. He’d hurt her more.

“For how long?”

For the first time that morning, they met eyes. “Indefinitely.”

“What?” Bellamy yelped. “That’s crazy! They can’t do that.”

Clarke’s face turned sour. “ _Apparently_ , the guy is threatening to sue.”

“Sue? That doesn’t even make sense. He’s the one that attacked you!”

That was just ridiculous. The evidence was right there, in front of him, on her face!

Clarke turned back to the book, not really reading it, and mumbled something under her breath. Bellamy stepped closer to hear.

“Huh?”

“I said, apparently you can sue a hospital when a doctor knocks you out with a bed pan,” she said behind gritted teeth.

“You knocked him out?” Bellamy asked hesitantly.

The book was slapped down onto the coffee table as Clarke sat up, collecting the blanket and wrapping it over her head and body like an Eskimo.

“Eventually Roan pulled him off me, but I was just so pissed! I reached for the nearest thing I could find and… _blam_.”

The picture was clear as day in Bellamy’s mind. Clarke getting off the floor, bloody and beaten but angry. Grabbing a bed pan. Swinging it like a bat at the guy’s face. Him falling. Roan having to catch him before he hit the ground. It would make a killer movie scene.

“It was self defense,” Bellamy argued.

Clarke snorted, “Roan had the guy’s hands pinned behind his back. It wasn’t self defense, Bellamy.”

They shared a long look.

“He deserved it,” Bellamy eventually said, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter if he had stopped hurting you.”

Clarke gave him a small smile and there was something sad about it. “I shouldn’t have done it and now I might lose my job.”

“If you do, you’ll find another, Clarke. You know you will. You’re an amazing doctor.”

Clarke found it heartbreaking that Bellamy was only optimistic when it came to her future, not his own. He always had so much faith in her, so much trust. Why couldn’t he see that he was just as good? Why couldn’t he see that he was so much better?

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “You going to work today?”

Shit. He’d had almost forgotten it was a Monday. Bellamy looked to the kitchen, quickly checking the time on the microwave and sighing when he realized he still had enough time to get ready.  It was going to be a long day, though. He was tired, worried about Clarke, and the events of last night were on loop in his head without reprieve.

“Yeah, I gotta shower.”

Clarke nodded solemnly, her attention turning back to the book. Bellamy felt bad leaving her here alone. But why should he? She had asked for space and he had to go to school. It had nothing to do with the way she was cocooning herself in the blankets, trying to hide from the world. Or the way her face was swollen and she flinched slightly every time she made a face. Or they way she almost seemed upset that he was going to work. Bellamy tried to convince himself that is was none those things as he left that morning.

* * *

Clarke decided she could sit around all day and feel sorry for herself or get her lazy ass up and go do something.

So, she yanked on a pair of leggings, a sports bra, threw her hair in a bun and stalked out of the apartment. She felt like hitting something. Thankfully, she knew the perfect place.

Octavia’s training gym was a quick Metro ride and Clarke walked in around 9:30. Octavia was working with a client, but Lincoln was behind the front desk, his head buried in a book.

He straightened when he saw her. “Clarke?”

“Hey,” she smirked and caught Octavia's eye, giving her a wave. “I’m looking to punch something. Think you can help?”

Lincoln seemed skeptical, brows raised high. “I think we can manage.”

He ushered Clarke to the back of the gym, where three punching bags were hanging, and gave her a pair of gloves.

“You getting excited for the wedding?” Clarke asked, yanking on the Velcro straps.

Lincoln’s frown turned upwards. “It’s been a hell of a time planning it, but yes. I can’t wait.”

He glanced over to where Octavia was demonstrating a proper lift, swinging around a dumbbell like it weighed nothing. The client took the weight hesitantly and Lincoln’s eyes softened as he watched Octavia reassure the girl she would be fine, that she could do it. Love, pure love, was all Clarke could see on Lincoln’s face. That kind of affection couldn't be faked. It brought tears to her eyes, thinking about how happy they were. How happy she was for her two friends.

“You okay?” Lincoln’s voice drew her out of the moment and Clarke blinked rapidly, trying to pretend she hadn’t just been crying over something so mundane.

“Fine. Now show me how to do this.” Her attention turned fully to the punching bag and Lincoln pursed his lips, puzzled by her sudden change in attitude. But he showed her a few basic moves to get warmed up, putting a lot of attention on proper form and wrist placement. 

Ten minutes later, Clarke already felt better. Lincoln had shown her how to position her shoulders and feet and how to punch so she wouldn’t hurt her hands. She wasn’t a natural by any means, but pure determination and anger had Clarke swinging like she’d done it before. Even Lincoln seemed impressed.

“Jeeze, Griffin. Take it easy. I can’t afford to buy another bag,” a bright voice said behind them. Octavia was finally done with her client and had meandered over.

Clarke huffed something inaudible and brushed a sweaty piece of hair off her forehead.

It only took another minute of Clarke brutally hitting the punching bag and one look at Lincoln's frown for Octavia to realize something was really wrong.

“Clarke, ease up,” Octavia said, but the punches kept going. “Clarke!”

“I’m fine,” Clarke snapped. That’s what she had been telling everyone, right? It had to be true by now.

“I didn’t ask,” Octavia said evenly, her eyes glued to the back of the blonde's head.

Quickly, Lincoln figured that whatever was going on didn’t involve him and went back to man the front desk, giving both of the women a wary look as he went.

“Why are you here, Clarke? Besides trying to punch a hole in my brand new bag.”

Clarke braced both hands on either side of the punching bag and dropped her forehead against the slick material.  

“I got put on leave. For knocking out the guy that hit me.”

“That’s fucking ridiculous,” Octavia cursed in the same way Bellamy had. Clarke nodded her head against the bag.

Octavia shouldered the other girl away from the bag, “Here, move.”

Clarke stepped back and watched carefully as Octavia lined up her stance, knees bent.

“You watching?” Octavia raised a brow.

Clarke nodded.

In one smooth motion, Octavia lifted her leg and struck the bag with such force Clarke stumbled back to get out of its way.

“Damn.”

“Right?” Octavia grinned proudly. “Now you try.”

She was skeptical that her kick would look anywhere near as good as Octavia’s. In fact, she wasn’t sure she’d land it at all. But at this point, it didn't really matter if she looked stupid.

Clarke mimicked Octavia’s slight crouch, breathing deep, and kicked.

The bag didn’t swing as much as when Octavia had kicked it, but it did move. And damn did it feel good. She did it again. And again. Her kicks got stronger, her hip started to burn, and eventually her body was too tired to keep going. She grunted, putting all her power into one final kick. It landed, but so did she, on her ass.

“ _Ooof_.”

Octavia snorted.

Already on her butt, Clarke slumped back onto the mat, letting out a groan and enjoying the feel of cool plastic on her sweaty shoulders.

“You feel better?” Octavia asked, glancing down from above.

Sure, now her body was tired. She’d worked off her anger, but did she feel better? No.

Octavia’s face shifted, becoming sharp.

“Clarke, if I ask you something, do you promise to only answer with a yes or a no?”

“Okay,” Clarke agreed cautiously, worried about where this was going.

Octavia crouched down, hovering above the mat.

“Did you sleep with my brother?”

That’s exactly where Clarke hadn’t wanted this to go. But it seemed like Octavia already knew the answer.

“Yes,” Clarke said, her voice hoarse.

A moment passed.

“And did he fuck it up or did you?”

Why did Octavia always have to be so perceptive? She knew Bellamy and Clarke like the back of her hand. If Clarke was here- almost screaming in frustration as she hit a punching bag- and Bellamy was avoiding her texts, something bad had to have happened. And when one of them was upset, the other usually knew why.

Unable to control it, Clarke’s eyes filled with tears.

“It was me,” Clarke whispered and Octavia’s fists clenched. “I ruined it.”

In an instant, her body was wracked with sobs.

Octavia lurched forward, grabbing her around the shoulders and pulling. Clarke clung to the smaller girl as they tumbled backwards, Clarke almost landing in Octavia’s lap.

“It’s okay,” Octavia whispered, glancing around the gym. They had quite the audience. “It’s okay, Clarke.” She stroked the blonde’s hair.

Lincoln watched the two women from his spot at the front desk. Octavia was trying her best to shield Clarke’s body with her own, offering her soft words and ignoring all the onlookers. The bell to the front door chimed and Lincoln turned to greet whomever it was that had entered, hoping to distract them for the time being.

Well, this couldn’t get much worse.

“Hey, Lincoln. Is O around?”

Lincoln forced himself not to look at the back of the gym. Bellamy hadn’t noticed the girls yet and hopefully wouldn't at all. 

“I can tell her you stopped by,” Lincoln said, coming around the desk and reaching for the extra cup of coffee Bellamy had in his hand.

Bellamy’s brows furrowed. “She said she would be here.”

Damn the stubborn Blake’s.

“She is, but she’s a little tied up at the moment,” Lincoln tried to reason.

A broken voice splintered through the gym.

_“He's too good, O. Too kind and too selfless. Bellamy deserves someone just as good. Not me, not me."_

Bellamy’s eyes widened at the scene over Lincoln’s shoulder. Red flushed his cheeks and he gulped.

"I... I'll come back later," Bellamy stuttered, setting the other cup of coffee on the counter. Clarke had her face buried in her hands as Octavia whispered something neither of them could hear. Lincoln gave Bellamy an uncomfortable grimace as he backed towards the door. 

Clarke lifted her head and like a magnet, her eyes met Bellamy's across the room. Her tear soaked face turned mortified and Octavia whipped her head around, jaw dropping at the sight of her brother. 

All Bellamy could do was turn on his heel and leave, the bell on the door slamming against the glass harshly behind him as he pushed his way through the busy street.  


End file.
